


Fresh Start

by WendelinTheWriter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Post-Hogwarts, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-02-26 08:53:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 43,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13232316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WendelinTheWriter/pseuds/WendelinTheWriter
Summary: Severus Snape, somehow, managed to survive the war. Starting anew proves itself to be a daunting task, especially when a mission brings to his life a very unlikely person.TW: Suicide





	1. The Retired Potions Master

“Sorry for barging in uninvited.” said Shacklebolt, not sounding the least bit sorry as he walked inside Severus’ living room.

Severus merely closed the book on his lap, and waited for the guest to sit down before saying: 

“Wine?”

“Yes, please.”

The bottle on the center table served wine in a clean goblet, and it floated to Shacklebolt’s hand. 

“What brings you here?”

“Came to check up on you, of course. This time I also came to discuss some matters that might concern you. At the very least, I hope they do.”

Severus sighed and set the book aside. After two years, he could no longer deny he and Shacklebolt developed an unlikely friendship, based on the fact the man had been worried Severus would commit suicide from the very moment it became clear Nagini’s wounds and venom would not kill him.

It was not an unfounded fear, in fact. Even a couple of years later, Severus still thought he did not deserve to see his fortieth year of life. 

Shacklebolt offered him a position at the Ministry as an Unspeakable as soon as he woke up and was coherent enough to nod yes. The idea of selling Severus’ old house and moving to a quiet wizardry village in England’s countryside, too, had been Shacklebolt’s. 

The random check-ins lessened over the months, which Severus was thankful for, but still, he was never entirely displeased to have the Minister’s company. 

“What could they be?”

“As I suspected, Voldemort left a legacy behind. As you know, I’ve tried my hardest to track all remaining Death Eaters, and crush any other attempt of bringing forth a pureblood supremacy. In the end, it was not the only thing I should be worried about…”

Severus perched up on his chair. He knew all the problems wouldn’t be over just because Voldemort was. He had been the face of a much older, deep-ingrained issue in the wizardry community. It was not unreasonable to think someone else would be… Inspired. 

What else could he inspire, however?

“Whatever do you mean?”

“The horcruxes. Nearly imposing a supremacy on the wizardry community of the United Kingdoms was not the only notable thing Voldemort did. There’s a new group acting. As far as I can see, which isn’t very far, they aren’t tied to any supremacy but they do seek immortality.” explained Shacklebolt. “Well, I assume it’s a group at least. They… Want to create another human horcrux. Like Harry.”

Severus took a small sip of his wine, his face still. 

His new position at the Ministry consisted in researching and compiling information about horcruxes, the unusual kind. Nagini and Potter, more specifically. He thought it would be a bad idea at first, like rubbing salt on his wounds, however someone had to do it. And he never had to deal with Potter himself besides studying the testimony of the boy’s experiences after being hit with a Killing Curse, dying, and coming back to life. 

All in all, a pleasant, fulfilling job for someone without any true desires. He got to work alone, had his own office and something interesting to fill his time. 

“How do you know that?”

“You see, I don’t really know. This is not happening here in England. It’s happening in France. Someone is killing babies in front of their mothers, there are accounts of toddlers and children missing. They have been hit with Killing Curses then discarded. I tried talking to the Ministry, but I’ve been ignored. They don’t want us meddling with their business. Officially, that is.”

That last observation made Severus cock one of his eyebrows. 

“So you want me to go and investigate anyway.”

“… Yes. Not as an employee of the Ministry, but as a member of the Order of the Phoenix.”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew he wouldn’t say no to that, but he didn’t want to give Shacklebolt an easy victory. 

“Order of the Phoenix? I haven’t heard that name in a long time.”

Shacklebolt waved a hand dismissively, seeing right through his attempt of being stubborn. 

“As long as there are people willing to fight against evil, there will be an Order of the Phoenix. Especially when the Ministry can’t help. I may be the Minister, but my hands are tied. I don’t want to cause friction between us and France. Officially.”

“Why not send Aurors undercover?”

“If they are found, it will be that much obvious that I tried to bypass the Minister’s clear warning not to get involved. Plus, you are the specialist here. I don’t even want you to end it all single-handedly. If you could find hard evidence of what’s going on, that would be enough.”

Silence fell in the room for a moment. 

“When am I supposed to go?” said Severus.

“Soon enough. In fact, I don’t want you to do it singlehandedly at all. I’m thinking about the long run here, Severus. It will happen again. You know it will. I want people capable of handling that, in the generations to come. The Order of the Phoenix, the knowledge we’ve acquired, it can’t die with us old men.”

Shacklebolt was ten years older than Severus, though of course they seemed to be around the same age. The Potions Master’s pale skin did not resist age as well as Shacklebolt’s did. 

“What are you suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting you take Granger with you. She’s with the Magical Law Enforcement department. She fought beside Harry and is very knowledgeable about horcruxes, as she has been around a human one for a very long time. Granger is the future of the Ministry.”

Granger seemed to be another person Shacklebolt took under his fatherly wing. Like Severus, she had been offered a position after graduating Hogwarts. 

How Severus knew that? The Daily Prophet, of course. There had been a big fuss on the entrance lobby on her first day of work, too. Even though he worked alone and barely even talked to anyone, by nine in the morning he was already aware of the whole situation. 

“Are you suggesting that I act as her mentor?”

“Not on my right mind.” he said with a short-lived laugh. “I do know the stories. What I want is for you to work together and find the hard evidence I need to justify sending in a few Aurors. Can that happen?”

Granger, Granger, Granger… The memories of his teacher times in Hogwarts were quick to fade away. He did recall being unjustly rude and cruel to her; he wanted to tell himself it was part of his cover, but the truth was he enjoyed his cover far too much. 

She was only a girl, and he had been every bit as cruel, sadistic and bitter as he wanted to be. 

“I don’t think I will be the problem.” said Severus, at last. “Though I’m not particularly looking forward to embarking on such a mission with any kind of company.”

“I know that. I take it you do recognize the importance of having an extra pair of hands, especially hands that will be on the high rankings of the Ministry in a few years?”

Severus curled up his lips in a sneer. 

“I can see your point. Like I said, I’m not really the problem. Will Granger want to work with me?”

“I don’t know that yet. I set up a meeting with her tomorrow morning. I was hoping you could attend. I’d do it myself and take her with me if I could, but… I have a Ministry to tend to.”

At the very least, Severus would have a reason to fling himself into harm’s way and end his pathetic existence, if it came to that. 

The idea of committing suicide was still somewhat… Tempting.

“Fine. I’ll be able to attend.”

“Good. Thank you for your time.”

Shacklebolt left before Severus could change his mind. The goblet of wine sat untouched at the center table.


	2. Revival of the Order

Hermione did not think much of Kingsley's invitation for a Sunday meeting at his home. It was not unusual for her to be invited for family dinners and special occasions; it was not rare for her to accept it, either. 

Her parents were still in Australia, their memories not fully recovered. She kept in touch through e-mails – a rather useful muggle invention, since they were terrified of magic – and visited them every other month. In short, Hermione was in London all by herself.

It was quite the surprise when Hermione found out Kingsley married a muggle woman, and had a pair of twins, one boy and one girl, both fifteen years old. Neither of them were magical. 

Maybe it was the muggle normal life they all lived, in a spacious house in the suburbs, or the fact Kingsley and his family were one of the few Black people Hermione knew; she couldn't help feeling that the Shacklebolts were the closest thing to a family she had at the time.

The boy was the one who came to answer the door. 

"Hey, Mione", said he. "Dad is upstairs, in his study. Mom's at the kitchen."

Hermione walked in and went to the kitchen first to say hello to Mrs. Shacklebolt. 

"It's so nice to see you, Hermione. I'm cooking that lasagna you like.", she said. "When you go upstairs, can you ask Kingsley if his other guest is staying for dinner as well?"

That commentary made one of Hermione's brows rise for a moment, but then she shrugged it off and went upstairs. She didn't think there would be someone else invited, then again, he did say it was a meeting. Should be another Ministry employee. 

But if that didn't set her off just yet, the slight buzzing in her ears as she reached the final step of the stairs did. By the time she stood before the study's door, at the very end of the hallway, it was so loud she couldn't hear a thing over it.  
The Muffliato Charm, of course. 

It was a rather strange thing that Kingsley knew of it. Harry found it out in an old potions book that belonged to Professor Snape in his youth. How could Kingsley possibly have known...?

Hermione narrowed her eyes and instead of knocking on the door, she leaned forward, and, in the most puerile fashion, looked into the keyhole, hoping to peep inside the room she was about to enter. 

Kingsley was sat behind his desk, shuffling a few papers. Nothing out of expected.

Except that, standing beside him and looking at the same papers, was the creator of the Muffliato Charm himself, clad in black muggle clothes. It had been over two years since the last time Hermione saw him.  
The hair was cut much shorter. To his ears, rather than his shoulders. Bright red stripes crept up his sweater, towards his jaw. His neck didn't seem to move as freely as it should; surely the remaining scars of Nagini's attack. 

As far as Hermione knew, he was found within an inch of his life, and spent two months at St. Mungos after the Battle. 

He resigned his post as Headmaster of Hogwarts with a letter, and was not present at his trial, where Harry's testimony and memories rendered him innocent of killing Dumbledore and the whole list of crimes that he was accused of.  
Hermione was kept out of the whole ordeal; only Harry and a handful of other members of the Order were allowed to attend. By then, she was too busy tracking her parents to care about Professor Snape or what Harry came to know during the Battle that changed his entire perspective on the man. 

The curiosity, tucked in a dusty corner of her mind, bubbled back to the surface as she gasped a bit too loud and stepped away from the door.  
Within a couple of moments, the door would fling open. 

"Granger, for how much longer do you intend to keep standing there without knocking?", the man himself, Severus Snape, asked. His voice sounded a bit odd, maybe his vocal chords were damaged, too. 

Or maybe it just sounded off because he asked calmly, despite the sharp words. 

"Professor Snape. I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Neither of us were expecting me to be here today, trust me.", he replied, then stepped aside so Hermione could enter the room, closing the door behind her. 

"What's going on?"

Kingsley sighed and gestured for Hermione to have a seat. Snape stayed where he was, leaning against the wall beside the door.

"Bad things, I'm afraid. We're all here today because the Order of the Phoenix will have to resume its activities, hopefully for a short amount of time."

"What?" Hermione exclaimed, and on reflex, looked over her shoulder to see how Snape's reacted to those news. 

"Someone has been trying to create another human horcrux by recreating the events of the night the Potters died.", he said from his spot. 

"How come I haven't heard of this?" Hermione asked, to Kingsley this time. She literally worked with Magical Law Enforcement. It shouldn't have been a complete surprise. 

"It's out of your jurisdiction. It's happening in France. The Ministry over there is covering up the tracks to avoid creating a panic, but they won't us interfere either. When I say us, I mean the Ministry. Luckily there's a group of people who don't care about the politics of the Ministries." Explained Kingsley. "For this, I'm only sending in you two, though. If you want to help out, I mean."

"I... How can two people solve this?"

Those two people being Hermione herself and a former teacher of hers that made her life hell, who for some reason was a good guy all along. She'd have to get back to that later.

"Severus has been working as an Unspeakable in the Ministry for the past two years. Technically I'm not supposed to say this, but he works researching horcruxes. He's a specialist by now. And you are Law Enforcement, one of the sharpest of the department. All I really want the both of you to do is go to France and try to collect enough evidence, so the French Ministry let us help them through official channels." Kingsley said. "I don’t have any hard evidence to back up my theories on the murders."

"How did these murders happen?"

"Children killed in front of their mothers. Their mothers were also killed afterwards. Killing Curses, of course. There have been seven cases of this so far. We don't know if it's a group or just a single person doing all of that."

"We haven't been able to figure out a pattern. Blood status doesn't seem to be a factor. These are not blood supremacists." Snape said. "Given that four of the mothers and three of the children were pureblood."

The room started spinning in a slow orbit around Hermione, and she had to rest her forehead against her fingertips for a moment.

"Oh. Okay. I... I need some time to think this through. I feel a bit light-headed." 

Kingsley offered her a knowing smile. 

"Take your time. It's a lot to take in."

"So I have to go to France? With Professor Snape?"

Hermione always wanted to visit France, especially after the Triwizard Tournament, except not to investigate a series of murders. With terrible company, no less. 

"He is trustworthy and will behave civilly, of course."

Snape came to sit in the second visitor's chair, legs crossed. 

"Declining the offer is also an option, Granger.", said he, letting her know he'd rather have her walking away from the whole problem. "I am more than capable of doing this on my own."

Kingsley sighed. 

"Yes, you are more than capable, and this is not why I want her to go. We've talked about this."

"Then why you're asking me to go?"

"Training." Said Kingsley. "Although I'd like to think the rest of your life will be peaceful, I also want to leave the Ministry knowing there's good, skilled people in its ranks."

Kingsley spoke as if though he was about to drop dead, when, in fact, wizards lived longer than muggles. Regardless, it made sense. He was thinking ahead. Should a new Dark Lord arise, they wouldn't be as unprepared. 

"Okay." Hermione replied. "I'll go."

She couldn't help darting a glance in Snape's direction, waiting for some sort of mean or acidic retort. Instead, he said:

"Then please drop the Professor. I understand you are freshly out of Hogwarts, but I haven't been your teacher in years. You might also be under the wrong impression that I will be mentoring you throughout this mission, which is not the case. I have not exactly received training for investigating murders, you see."

That was a more neutral way of saying Hermione would need to pull her own weight and not rely on him for answers. She was pleased to realize he could've been much meaner about it. Maybe he'd behave like a normal human being. 

Maybe he was a normal human being after being freed from the task of being a double agent and being on the brink of death for Merlin knew how long. Who would have thought? 

Kingsley clapped his hands once and stood up, putting an end to the most unexpected meeting Hermione ever had.

"Now that everyone agreed, I'll let you the details in the upcoming days. Who's staying for dinner?"


	3. No Rest For The Wicked

Hermione sat by the edge of her hotel bed with no small amount of wicked excitement. The circumstances that brought her to France were terrible, yet it was the first time she felt alive in months. 

Maybe a common life felt staler to her than she cared to admit. Maybe Ron was right after all, and they hadn’t need to break up, if only Hermione accepted not returning to Hogwarts and join him and Harry on their antics around the globe. Then again, having a real mystery to solve felt way more exciting than just leisurely travelling about. 

Kingsley didn’t say it out loud, however Hermione came around the conclusion that the whole operation was meant to be kept a secret from the two of them. They would want to get involved, for sure, however Kingsley was clear that Hermione’s participation on it was justified by her position on the Ministry of Magic. Harry and Ron were just… Two young men enjoying their fame. 

Hermione understood them. She really did, in that moment more than ever, yet she felt it was only fair. Being kept in the dark was their punishment for not even trying to be ordinary again. 

There was no time to dwell on those thoughts, however, as Snape should be arriving in the hotel’s restaurant in a few minutes. It was around mid-day, and they were going to meet up for lunch. 

Not staying at the same place – or, worse, the same room – as her former teacher was a small blessing. Hermione was still too recognizable in the wizardry world, so Kingsley thought it was best for her to pretend to be only another young muggle tourist in the city of Nice. No need for fake names that way. 

She wasn’t too sure where Snape was going to stay. His face wasn’t as known, if known at all, but his name… At any rate, she had been gently informed it was none of her business. He’d be there if necessary, and that was all she needed to know. 

Like promised, he waited for her in the small restaurant lobby. The hotel was a family beach house turned business. It was big for a family, cozy for a packed hotel; even so, it was not at all difficult to spot the fully dressed, dark figure sitting alone by one of the windows overlooking the pebbly streets and the sea. 

Wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt in that heat was way out of place, though Hermione was glad not to see his bare legs or arms. The sunglasses, she was willing to accept. He looked like a goth that didn’t grow out of it, staring out at the sunlit scenery with disgust. The only thing different was the lack of scarring up his neck. 

Hermione sat by his table without ceremony. Kingsley didn’t give any explicit instructions on how they should act around each other in public, but at the very least, they had to pretend to be familiar. 

“Hope you had a pleasant trip”, said she. 

“Could have been worse. Yours?” 

“A bit tiresome.” 

She noticed that the people and the waiters avoided their surroundings; the perfectly placed tables around them were empty. Snape’s doing, no doubt. 

“We don’t have any time to waste, Granger. I’ve been here a couple of days longer than you have, and I may already have a lead.” he prompted. 

“What is it?” 

“A father escaped the most recent attack. Or rather, cowered. He’s muggle and is staying with his family. The Ministry didn’t obliviate him, but made him swear to keep his mouth shut. We should try to get him to talk to us before he kills himself.” 

That was fast. 

“How did you find that out?” 

“Like I said, I’ve arrived a couple of days earlier and thought a witness would be a decent starting point. You should talk to him. I feel he’d be more inclined to speak to you.” 

“W-why?” 

OoOoO 

“No one would feel particularly at ease to strike up a conversation about traumatic events with me, Granger.” Severus said, feeling a little impatient that she wouldn’t get his meaning. 

“And how would I strike up a conversation with him? I don’t even--” 

Severus inhaled deeply, choking back down the urge to just go on with it on his own. He had observed that the poor man went every night to a bar close to his parents’ house. It was easier to just abduct him, go through his memories and then obliviate him afterwards. Yet that sounded like the wrong thing to do, even for him. 

Maybe Granger could pry out useful information with a subtler technique. After all, who wouldn’t want to talk to a pretty, young woman? All she had to do was a smile, bat her lashes a little. 

It troubled Severus to think that of her, but it was simply stupid to not consider that line of action. 

“What I am saying is that you’d be more successful than I would if I were to try getting him to talk willingly. I could get to the same results, though I doubt Shacklebolt would approve the method. I’ve watched this witness; we can get to him tonight, if we’d like. He always goes to this particular bar to waste his liver away.” 

Outrage flashed Granger’s face once she heard the word bar and realized what Severus had in mind. 

“Are you telling me to… To seduce him?” 

Severus snorted and went to look at the menu to ease his uncomfortableness with the whole situation. She wouldn’t have to do much of anything, that was the whole point. 

“I’m telling you to ask him the right questions. He’s a man. You’re a pretty young woman. Don’t pretend you can’t do the math.” 

“I’m a what now?” 

“Have you looked at a mirror recently?” 

“That sure is a way to pay someone a compliment”, she retorted. 

Severus did not want to say it again. Or acknowledge that at all, if he could help it, though, of course, he could not. If there was something Nagini left undamaged, it was his vision. 

Granger was doing something else with her hair; a mane of untamed curls framed her face, not as unkept and neglected as Severus remembered. Not to mention the yellow dress that danced to the sound of the breeze, or the dark skin that seemed to glitter under the sun rays. 

Amongst another things Severus didn’t want to even think, lest he wouldn’t be able to live with himself any more than he already couldn’t. 

“Didn’t mean it as such. Will you do it or not?” 

“Well, I don’t want to. That’s just disgusting. Plus, do you think I’d be able to get anything reliable from it? He probably doesn’t even know what he saw and heard. Not even Veritaserum will help with that, if I’m correct. And I usually am correct.” Granger said. “I say we retrieve his memories. It’s invasive, though I doubt anything else will put us on the track of undisputable evidence. Don’t tell me it didn’t cross your mind.” 

“I’ve… Considered it.” 

“And you thought I’d say yes to wave myself around like a piece of meat for an unreliable piece of information? Please. You can do it, can’t you?” 

“I’d be able to, yes.” 

“Good. Then that’s we’ll do. Have you decided what you want for lunch yet or are you just pretending to read the menu?” 

Maybe working with Granger wouldn’t be so bad. 

Severus wished it would.


	4. Teamwork

The meeting at the restaurant had been a terrible idea. Soon it was far too full for Snape’s charm around their table work without arising any suspicion. Besides that, there was a not too slim chance of Hermione being recognized. She usually called people’s attention with her gravity defying hair; with Snape, a man double her age who looked the part and who could in no way whatsoever be a relative, it got way worse.

She should have seen that coming, really. A middle-aged white man and a young Black woman was some sight, even in the year 2000.

So that was why, after an early dinner, Hermione ended up knocking on the door of the shack Snape was staying at. They didn’t discuss everything they needed to execute her idea of stealing the witness’ memories, which sounded very rude if put that way.

The shack stood rickety and fragile in the outskirts of a country wizardry village. It seemed abandoned, but when Snape opened the door and let Hermione in, it showed itself to be a fully furnished house; all in tones of beige and dark wood.

“Let’s never be seen together in public again”, said Hermione as she entered, passing by Snape.

“Excellent idea. Have a seat.”

She sat by the edge of the couch. Snape went to stand in front of her, leaning against the fireplace, hands in his pockets.

“You’re the one who’s been watching the witness this whole time. What do you think we should do if we want to get to him?” Hermione said.

“The easiest way is to wait for him to go back home and get to him then. The streets will be empty, and he will be drunk. Even if we don’t obliviate him, it’s likely he won’t remember anything.”

“Any ideas of what we should be doing after we see his memories? He might not have seen enough.”

“We’ll think about that _if_ that happens.”

“I didn’t take you for an optimistic person.”

She wasn’t having the easiest time dealing with the nearly complete lack of a plan. If that trail turned cold, and it would, because the chances of the memories having anything significant enough in them were slim, what then? Would she have to return and tell Shacklebolt she failed? Her refusal to fail didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen.

And, of course, dealing with Snape for prolonged periods of time could be considered a health hazard. His original plan was idiotic. At least he still looked somewhat embarrassed for it.

“Believe me, I’m not. I’m aware we will be out of ideas if that fails. _When_ that fails. That witness is still alive for a reason.” Snape said. “We have to start from somewhere. Do you still want to go back to your hotel or can we leave now? I’ve been there, and I know the surroundings, which is not your case.”

“Drop me off somewhere close of where we should be when it’s time and I’ll just figure it out.”

Hermione fished a cellphone out of her magically expanded pocket and placed it on the center table. Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Do you at least know how phone calls work?”

“I know what a cellphone is, Granger. I haven’t been living under a rock for the past couple of years. Is your number saved already?”

That question made Hermione raise both of her eyebrows, until she remembered of her sixth year. Snape was a half-blood. He might as well be living in the muggle world like she had been doing. Seemed likely, now that she thought about it. His fame wouldn’t allow him to have any peace if he lived within wizards. Everyone wanted a piece of the elusive war hero.

“Yes. Granger. Can’t miss it. Text me the address of the bar when we’re there.”

He leaned forward to get the cellphone and put it in his pocket, absentminded. Well, if he didn’t know what texting was, he was smart enough to figure it out by himself.

 “So shall we?”

“Sure.”

Hermione realized then she’d have to hold his arm. The weirdness of it ended up being worse than the feeling of being squeezed into a garden hose, as it went with apparition. Next thing she knew, she was standing in an alley behind a row of buildings, feeling like throwing up on Snape’s shoes.

If he could pretend he knew what texting was, Hermione could fake not being nauseous to death. At least he had been polite enough to not jerk away immediately and let her ground herself before letting him go.

“You go ahead.” Snape said. “I’ll wait here a while before going my way. I’ll let you know where I will be.”

“Alright. See you later.”

See you later. They reached _that_ point.

Hermione ended up on a busy commercial street. Most things were closing for the day, so she went towards a cathedral down the avenue and see where to go from there.

Across the cathedral, the only establishment still open was a supermarket.

Hermione decided to go for the supermarket and stall there for a while until Snape got in touch with her, which happened a solid fifteen minutes later. She already had a basket full of snacks to smuggle back to her hotel by then.

And it was a text. With the address of the bar the witness went to every night and the restaurant Snape was staying at. So he knew how to text. Or learned how to very fast.

There was not much to see in the surroundings, really. It was just a small town like any other. Except the streets were a mess without clear blocks, and everyone spoke French.

As Hermione walked around, she started to grow… Unsettled. Her experiences with nosy journalists made her develop a strong sense of when she was being watched, a burning sensation in the back of her neck.

Except she could not spot the culprit of said feeling as she walked and walked in streets without a clear destination. The stalker might as well have cast a disillusionment spell on themselves. Paparazzi rarely ever did, but then again, Hermione had the feeling it was not a simple paparazzi.

Maybe Hermione could try to trap whoever was following her; maybe it would turn out to be way more useful than going after a mourning widow. She decided first to find a public bathroom, so she could get in touch with Snape in peace. Trying to do spring a trap all alone, against people who were Death Curse-happy, was not doable.

 _Are you being followed?_ , she texted him. _I think I am._ _And it’s not a journalist._

Two minutes later, the answer:

_If so, it’s not safe for you to be by yourself. You know where I am._

He seemed almost concerned.

_Listen, I think we can ambush whoever is doing this. I’m going to walk past where you are staying. Follow me to that alley we apparated to and we’ll trap the stalker there. They are using a disillusionment spell, though. Deal?_

_Deal._

Hermione washed her hands without any rush. Whoever wanted to know what she was doing at all times stayed back, outside the bathroom.

Like she thought, the sensation of being watched returned as soon as she was back on public. She made her way to the restaurant Snape was staying and passed in front of his table without as much as glancing in his direction.

So then it became three people going right into a now dark and unpopulated alley. She stood in the middle of it and stopped, fingers grasping the wand inside her pocket, aware Snape was behind her several feet. Someone, between them, realized they got caught.

“Did you think I wouldn’t realize I was being followed?” Hermione said before turning on her heels and wordlessly casting a Expelliarmus than sent her stalker flying in Snape’s way.

The disillusionment charm broke, revealing a man in fine burgundy robes. He was not much older than Hermione. By the time she got a good look, Snape had already kicked the man’s wand far away and tied him up.

He looked calm and did not try to fight back at all. He was tied up, outnumbered, and still had this smug look on his face as if he had the upper hand.

Snape didn’t waste time: he grabbed the man’s collar and was about to cast a Legilimens – or so Hermione guessed – when the familiar loud crack of apparition erupted. Snape tried to grab onto to anything when he realized what was happening.

The wandless man was apparating away without a wand. And he succeeded, leaving behind only a necklace on Snape’s fingers. 

“It’s not safe in here. We better leave. _Now_.”

Hermione figured that much out. Within a moment she’d be standing beside Snape in front of his shack.

OoOoO

Severus never felt that unsafe. The first thing he did after arriving at the shack was to cast as many wards as he knew; Granger joined him in the task without saying a word, looking mortified too.

“We drew too much attention at the hotel”, she observed with a bitter sneer, overlooking the then completely dark horizon. “We’re careless.”

“You should probably not go back there, since we are talking about your hotel. I hope you’ve brought a change of clothes with you, though I’m not sure how safe we are here, either.”

Once they were inside, Severus showed Granger the pendant he was left with. A golden ouroboros, except the head could not quite reach the tail.

“That’s quite the message” Granger pointed out. “Stop the cycle of life and death. Live forever. What a bunch of lunatics. At least we know something about them now.”

“The wandless advanced magic worries me more than this. You should send Shacklebolt a patronus to let him know.”

“Maybe you should cast one yourself to someone else of trust. Mr. Weasley, I think.”

Severus could no longer cast a patronus. The anger for the past had left him. The affection for a few parts of it, as well. He never thought there would come a time when he’d think of Lily and feel nothing. He didn’t even remember what her face looked like anymore.

He just didn’t know what to feel happy about. He thought he’d love her until his last breath. He miscalculated, mainly because he didn’t think he’d live to see the end of the war.

 “I can’t do it.”

“You… You _can’t_?”

“No, Granger, I cannot cast a bloody patronus anymore. Will you _please_ do it?”

“I… Okay. I’m sorry that I asked”, Granger said, looking away and casting her own. It seemed a bit weak and fickle, though. Hopefully, it would make it to Shacklebolt. “Now we wait.”

“Now we wait.”


	5. Stranded

“How could this happen in less than 24 hours?” Shacklebolt’s face asked over the fireplace.

They were all hoping the private floo connection to the shack was safe enough.

Granger, sitting at the edge of the armchair near the fireplace, sighed and hid her face in her hands for a moment before facing Shacklebolt again. Severus stood behind her, trying not to look as disappointed with himself as he truly was.

“We just screwed up”, she said. “Really, really bad. We set up a meeting in public at my hotel, we thought it would be just fine, but we drew too much attention to ourselves because… Well. I should have seen it coming. I guess they came to the logical conclusion that we were here to snoop and would get around the witness.”

The witness, by the way, was found dead on his way home between the time Granger sent her patronus and the time Shacklebolt showed up.

“We underestimated the situation.”, Severus added, in an underestimation of the caliber of his mistakes.

“All I’m glad for is that they underestimated you, too, and there were no reinforcements. This witness… I’m disappointed we lost him, but I understand the possible consequences of sending two agents in the dark like this. What I don’t want to lose is the both of you. I’m considering finding a way of getting you back to England.”

“What? No!” Granger protested. “These people they can do advanced wandless magic. The man who stalked me apparated without a wand and he left nothing behind. Except the pendant, of course. Who knows what they can do? Besides, we’re already here. Let’s get to the bottom of this.”

“Despite seeming all-powerful, they don’t seem to know of this shack. We’ve been here for a couple of hours and nothing strange appeared. We’re having this conversation, and no one is tampering with the floo network.” Severus chimed in. “We will be moderately safe if we play smart from now on.”

“Play smart.” Shacklebolt echoed. “Then what would be the next move?”

“Beauxbatons”, Severus said, flatly. “The man stalking Granger couldn’t be much older than her. And I doubt he has reached any kind of immortality, considering this group, whatever it is, is after horcruxes. It’s safe to assume Beauxbatons is a recruiting ground, like Hogwarts once was. I’m sure someone from the school has seen this ouroboros or at least something related to it.”

“That is a sensible guess. I can arrange a private meeting with trustworthy people. Not at this hour, of course, but it can be done. I will try to contact them in the morning. For the meantime, stay put, and take turns sleeping, if any of you is lucky enough to sleep at all tonight. I’m sure you two understand now one can never be too careful.”

“We’ve learned the lesson, I’m afraid.”

“Severus. Hermione. I’ll be in touch later.”

With that, Shacklebolt disappeared.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Granger asked as soon as the two were alone.

The acidic question made Severus step away from the armchair. Yes, Severus knew his very first idea was terrible. And the idea of the public meeting had been his, too. If they were keeping score of just plain stupid ideas, he’d be first place.

“I’m sure of this idea.”, he replied. “Where else someone in need of people stupid enough to meddle with horcruxes would find minions?”

“I guess it makes sense… You’re speaking from experience, right?”

Severus studied Granger’s face. She didn’t seem to distrust him, but she was angry for something specific, and it was not the entirety of his terrible treatment towards her during her school years.

“Whatever do you mean by it, spell it out.”

“You know, Harry didn’t tell me what exactly he knows about you that made him so sure you are on our side. But I do know some things. In the fifth year, the memory he saw—”

“Yes, I’ve called his mother a mudblood.” Severus said, irritated that he couldn’t just _leave_. Granger shifted on her spot. “I’m sure you know I’ve done many, many regrettable things. This is one of them. The other one is letting myself be groomed by Voldemort during my time as a student of Hogwarts. So yes, I am speaking from experience. Is this what you wanted to know?”

Her anger toned down a notch and she looked up to Severus, who held her gaze despite the urge just to hole himself in his bedroom and not have that conversation.

“Yes. For the record, I don’t distrust you at all, even if I don’t know what exactly made you come to the decision to regret the things you did in your past. Still, I didn’t think I’d be holed up in a shack with a former Death Eater.”

“I’m not forcing you to be nice to me. I know you don’t want to. In fact, I will perfectly understand any hostility, however I’d appreciate if you would not ask any questions or mention my past ever again.” Severus said, and then couldn’t stand to stare back at her any longer. “There is nothing left for me to do about it.”

After a moment of silence, Granger let out a sigh.

“Yes. Of course. I’m so, so sorry. That was rude of me to say. I’m just… Having a hard time processing this whole situation.”

Severus couldn’t even say it wasn’t his fault they were in this predicament. None of that would have happened if he’d just went for the safest option, which was using the shack as a place for meetings, something he did not suggest because he felt uncomfortable.

Now she couldn’t go back to her hotel, and it was his doing, so the least he could do was not make it harder for them to cohabitate for as long as that mission lasted.

“I can see that. We’ll be fine as long as you respect my boundaries. Feel free to use the kitchen and the spare bedroom upstairs. Third door to the left. I’ll stay here watching the door.”

“Alright. Thank you.”

She even offered him a little smile before leaving.

It wasn’t a lie when he said she didn’t have to be nice, however it would have stung. The feeling of being disliked was something Severus grew unused to, especially because he never thought that particular mistake of his would make a _second_ person upset at him, so many years later. This time, though, they ended in civil, and even friendly, terms.

Maybe he could try not being an insufferable prick now and again. Not everyone disliked him out of principle, despite what he thought at times. 

OoOoO

Hermione felt terrible about her small lash out, even moreso because she didn’t think Snape would react the way he did. She just couldn’t get over the fact he had been a Death Eater and freely used the word mudblood, once. But she didn’t have to forgive him, or like him, or, like he said, even be nice to him. They were working together, nothing more.

The actual problem was that they could never _just_ work together, not on Hermione’s end anyway. She could never not be curious about him as a person now that she started thinking of him as such.

What made him go from calling a classmate a mudblood to spending years being a spy, within an inch of dying in a painful way in the hands of Lord Voldemort?

It did not make any sense. He had been either a bigot or extremely weak-willed; neither flaws were things one could get over without strong incentive. And, deep down, Hermione did not picture him being weak-willed.

She shook her head and decided to empty her pockets on the bed of her new rooms to see how bad were her circumstances. Returning to the hotel was not an option.

Gladly, there was enough to last her throughout the mission. The cellphone, two changes of clothes, her wand, muggle and wizardry money, the snacks she bought earlier, some toiletries.

She didn’t have the forethought to bring all of her hair products, so she’d have to deal with her hair returning to the state of her Hogwarts years, when she didn’t know how to properly care for her kinky hair. Neither did she bring a set of pajamas, but at least within the clothes she brought were a hoodie and a pair of leggings. It would have to do.

And, of course, she brought Harry’s invisibility cloak. He’d have a fit once he realized it was gone from his home, but Hermione would apologize about that later. He would understand, for sure. What she couldn’t do was ask for his permission; it would raise questions she wouldn’t want to answer before the mission was done for.

If they were quick enough, she wouldn’t even notice her entire suitcase was stranded in a hotel she could not set her foot on without being caught by a secret wizardry organization.

Hermione went in for a quick shower in her bathroom – thank Merlin she had her own bathroom – and decided to go downstairs to get a cup of tea.

Snape was still, sitting by the armchair, reading. Hermione walked past him with a shudder before going to the kitchen. There she put some water to boil and made enough tea to last for the entire evening, served a mug to herself and decided to retreat to her room.

During her passage in the living room towards the stairs, she saw the bookshelves. And the cabinet with the hard liquor. Nothing like some evening tea with a shot of firewhiskey in it and a good book for a long night’s worth of wait.

The books were mostly about Dark Arts, though. She knew it was Snape’s expertise, even moreso than Potions, if that was even possible, but another thing was seeing the gruesome contents of the Dark Arts books.

“Are you seeking anything in particular?”

Some of Hermione’s tea nearly spilled on the floor upon Snape’s interruption. She recomposed herself after a short moment.   

“Well… Do you have any light reading for sleep time?”

“Bottom shelf, to the left.”

Hermione found two or three books on history of magic in France. It made sense for Snape to bring this along. Maybe history would have some clues as to what was the organization they were looking for, and history of magic made even her a little drowsy during class.

She picked up one of the books at random and went up the stairs, but stopped half-way to turn and say:

“When does your turn watching the front door end?”

“Whenever I feel like sleeping. I’m not sure this will happen tonight.”

“Okay. There’s tea in the kitchen, if you’d like.”

Cutting the pleasantries short, Hermione resumed her path to her brand new bedroom and got cozy with the pillows, the tea and the book. It felt a little unfair to be so comfortable while Snape was up, but then again, going downstairs to hang out was not an option.

And her intuition told her it was best if she slept as much as she could while it was possible.


	6. Beauxbatons

Severus waited for the water to boil to make himself some more coffee when Granger finally woke up.

“You let me sleep through the whole night”, she said, upon entering the kitchen, and gave him a good look. “You look terrible. Could have woke me up.”

“Good morning to you, too, Granger. If you are interested in curing your hangover, I’ve made breakfast”, Severus said. “Shacklebolt has already shown up. We should be heading to Beauxbatons in the afternoon to meet with their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Boucher.”

Granger looked over what had been recently cooked on the stove and gave Severus a nod. That was, in fact, his breakfast. He didn’t think of cooking for two.

“Smells good. I’m _not_ hungover, though, just so you know.”

She made herself a plate and started to eat leaning on the counter beside Severus, who crossed his arms over his chest. He very much wanted that mission to end, because he could tell what was about to happen. Or _already_ had happened.

Even two decades later, he didn’t seem to be able to ground his existence in anything but stumbling all over himself to get the affection of someone else who was not interested.

“I’m going to sleep now that you’re awake. We’ll leave at two.”

With that, Severus stormed out of the kitchen to hide in his bedroom. He hoped Granger would not just leave the pot of water to boil and spill all over everything.

He also hoped the mission wouldn’t last long enough for him to do something completely stupid with his buddying feelings for a woman half his age who had been his student. He didn’t know for how long he could go without slipping and doing something terrible, as it usually went with him. Just a matter of time until things blew up on his face. Again.

And he was not all that sure how genuine it was, anyway. Was he just not too eager to find something else to live for again? Granger just happened to be nearby, be pleasant to talk to and look at. For all intents and purposes, they met a couple of days ago.  

It would go away. It had to.

At least keeping watch so Granger could get a full night of sleep left him so exhausted that his sleeping problems gave him a break for a few hours. He went unconscious as soon as his head hit the pillow; when he woke up, he had 23 minutes to clean up his act before the time they were supposed to leave.

Granger was dutifully waiting for him by the fireplace when he went down the stairs.

“Did you sleep any?”

“I will survive.” Severus said, heading to the door. “Come. The sooner we get this over with, the better.”

The Palace of Beauxbatons seemed almost like a dream under the blazing sunlight of that summer afternoon. Even under the heat, the palace’s garden flourished. Up ahead, between the gates and the castle itself, the Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel fountain’s water glittered.

Severus, however, could only think of how hot it was under the dark jeans and black long sleeves. At least he got rid of the shoulder length hair, and had a pair of sunglasses. Granger had no such luck. She did have the luck of not feeling self-conscious wearing shorts – there was nothing to feel self-conscious about anyway – and not having a Dark Mark scar to conceal. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The palace?” Granger asked, shielding her eyes from the sun with a hand.

“…Yes.”

“I should come back here when I’m on vacations.”

Severus saw at the distance that someone was waiting for them at the palace’s doorstep. Should be Professor Boucher. Shacklebolt didn’t give much information about them, mostly out of the little time, so Severus could only hope he was right. No one else was supposed to know they were in the palace.

Since it was holidays, there were no students and the staff had been reduced to the bare minimum. Even so, if the meeting at the restaurant was any indication, if he and Granger were seen together, people would talk about it.

“Miss Granger. Mr. Snape. Excuse my poor English.” said she, in perfect English, stepping forward once they were close enough to the front doors. “I’m Professor Boucher. Prime Minister Shacklebolt told me you wanted help with an important matter. I don’t think it’s wise to give you a full tour on the palace in this occasion. I’ll take you straight to my office, so we can talk privately.”

Professor Boucher was a plain woman of around thirty years of age, brown hair up in a neat knot. Nothing about her face or her demeanor was eye-catching.

She did not wait for an answer before turning on her heels and using a key to open a smaller door on the palace’s portals; she gestured for them to get in and closed the door after them.

The urgency of the situation at hand stopped Severus’ from feeling curious about the palace, though the white marbles and gold decorations everywhere certainly caught his eye. They said nothing as they followed Professor Boucher to a hall full of door with golden names engraved in them.

The door with her name engraved on it marked the end of the little tour. The office was, like the rest of the palace, spotless and bright. The large window behind the wooden desk had a beautiful overview of the hills that surrounded Beauxbatons.

“Please, have a seat. I’m certain you will understand I can’t offer refreshments because I’ve been told your visit should be of utmost discretion.”

Severus was trying to decide if there was something off about the Professor or not. She was so ordinary and formal that he could barely tell he was interacting with a real person.

“Of course, Professor. I’m sorry to interrupt your vacations, but we need to ask a few questions”, said Granger, taking the lead and placing the golden pendant they had on top of the desk. She was the Law Enforcement, after all. Sure she knew a couple things about asking around. “Have you ever seen this symbol? Maybe not in a pendant, but in a ring or a seal…?”

The Professor eyed the pendant with polite curiosity.

“An ouroboros. That is very curious. Where did you get this?”

“The circumstances are not relevant, right now. I should say I have reasons to believe this symbol is the identification of the group that is behind the recent string of murders of wizardry families.”

The Professor perched up her shoulders and proceeded to ignore Granger’s questions.

“I must say I’m just thrilled to have met both of your in person. All around France, people had their noses into the books about the war against Lord Voldemort and its heroes. I was one of these people. You are celebrities around the globe. There is no place in Europe where you can set foot without being recognized.”

Severus was starting to get uncomfortable with the monologue. Something about her demeanor shifted ever so slightly as she spoke and paced around the room; maybe being there with their backs to the door had been a mistake.

“But I’d like to hear you say something, Mr. Severus Snape. Spy. Double agent. Potions Master. Genius, if your unofficial biographies are to be trusted. Currently researching horcruxes for the English ministry. I guess this is why you are here.”

Severus shot a glance at Granger to see if she was picking up how strange that “visit” was turning into. She already had her hand in her pocket, probably grasping her wand. They walked into a trap, it rather seemed like.

“Why not cut the crap and tell us what you want and who you really are?” Severus said, losing his temper.

“I _am_ Professor Boucher. What Madame Maxime got wrong is what I do on my free time.”

With a snap of her fingers, Boucher immobilized Severus and Granger with magical ropes. They tried to struggle, but the door burst open and three of her followers walked inside. 

“Mr. Snape, I’m in dire need of your expertise.” she said. “The three of you, make sure the girl won’t ruin our plans.”

Severus didn’t even have the time to process or think about what was happening before being apparated away. Next thing he knew, he woke up several hours later, in a fancy bedroom, with a throbbing headache.

He could tell a lot of time had passed because the draped curtains of the windows were drawn back, revealing the setting sun. Because it was summer, that meant it was night time. He was alone, without a wand or the cellphone Granger gave to him. His pockets had been thoroughly checked for anything he could use to escape.

His recollections of the events leading up to his kidnapping were hazy, at best. The palace, he could remember. Professor Boucher’s little speech before springing the trap was less clear in his mind. How his kidnapping happened? He had no idea.

But maybe it would come with time. Trying to escape in that state was not a good idea. He laid down again and rubbed his temples.

Where was Granger? He had to find a way to get to her, or, at least, communicate. Even if he had the cellphone, that wouldn’t work. Not with, he guessed, a lot of magical interference.

The door knob turned, and Severus sat up to see her walking in with a tray of supper and placing it on the table at a corner of the room. She then sat by the edge of the bed. Her old clothes were gone, and she wore deep burgundy robes instead.  

“Hello. How are you feeling?”

“Granger? What are you doing here?”

“Well, making sure you’re okay. I’m perfectly fine myself.”

Severus wanted a way to know for sure that he was not out of his mind and somehow hallucinating, but, for the time being, he’d play along.

“You put up quite the fight.” she prompted, breaking the silence.

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t remember anything.”

“That makes sense, from what I’ve heard. Well, we’re both alive. So that’s good.”

“Granger, what is happening?”

“For the time being, I’m cooperating. We are outnumbered and outskilled. We won’t help any by turning up dead. And… I came to deliver a message from Boucher.”

“What is it?”

“You have to cooperate, too. Unless… Unless you want to see me pay for it.” Granger whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. “I understand I’m not your favorite person, but… Please. Don’t let them hurt me.”

Severus took a deep breath. There he was, about to do the stupid thing he was worrying he’d do. He scooted over to where Granger was sitting and squeezed her shoulder to comfort her.

“I won’t.”

She then leaned for a hug, that he of course did not refuse. That had to be the first hug he’d received in decades. He held her close until she decided to distance herself a bit.

“You know, I have no guarantees they’ll let me see you again. So…”

Granger leaned in again, this time for a kiss. Severus couldn’t think straight. He never would have thought his feelings, whatever they were, would be reciprocated. It was a brief kiss, though. Soon Granger stood up to go away, leaving Severus to his own devices, melting in a puddle.

Then the door knob turned once more. The door seemed to have opened and closed all by itself, until he heard fabric slipping and Granger appeared. For the second time in a row.  

Severus was not sure which face he pulled or what color he was; he only knew he looked terrible enough that she knelt to look him at eye level. 

“Hey, are you alright? I saw Boucher walking out of here just now. Was she doing anything to you? I’m sorry I took so long to come get you.”

Ah, so that was the real Granger. Not the one who just kissed him. He was not even that surprised that Boucher was trying to fuck with his head that way; probably they tried to search his mind and managed to break Severus’ rusty occlumency.

“It’s been just several hours. I’m fine.”

The wrinkle of worry between her eyebrows deepened and she held one of his hands with both of hers.

“Snape… You’ve been here for over a day.”


	7. Kind Of

Snape had some problems swallowing in the news. Hermione wanted to get out of there, but he didn’t seem to be able to move. That place would be filled to the brim with Aurors within a few hours, now that they had a location and Kingsley went to talk with the French Prime Minister. Hermione didn’t want to be caught in the middle of the fire.

“Excuse me.” he said. “ _What_?”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I came as soon as I could.”

Bringing the unbreakable jar and the invisibility cloak with her had been a lucky move; once Snape was kidnapped, she didn’t need to defeat all the minions inside the castle. She only needed to confuse them long enough to use the cloak to flee, but, in that process, she minded to knock out one of them, turning them into a beetle and trapping them in the jar.

As it turned out, not all of them could do wandless magic.

She also had to spend some time arguing with Kingsley about diplomacy. That whole situation would cause an incident with the French Ministry, he said, and her strong persuasion on the minion she caught would, too. Law Enforcement employees were not supposed to be using illegal methods to extract information from suspects. No mind-reading, no _Veritaserum_.

Oh well. She had to get the job done, somehow. She had to get to Snape. It was just the fastest way. Thankfully, he had brought _Veritaserum_ so Hermione used that after wasting a couple of hours going through his belongings, which, she was aware, was one of the many not very polite things she did that day.

And Snape… Well, he looked like death.

“No matter. I’m fine.”

She let go of his hand and stood up.

“Well, you don’t look fine to me, but we have to get you out of here. We could wait for the swarm of aurors that will be heading this way once Kingsley is done talking with the French Ministry, but I’d rather not wait for that.”

“Any idea of where my wand might be?”

“I have no clue. Took me most of the day to even figure out where you were and how to get through the wards on your door. I think I’ve sneaked around enough and pushed my luck. We’ll tell Kingsley about your wand once we’re safe at the shack.”

Snape, then, stood up, with an exhausted sigh.

“So how are we going to leave?”

“I’ve got Harry’s Invisibility cloak with me.”

“Invisibility cloak?”

“Yeah, it was his father’s, I don’t know, just… Come here. Let’s go.”

“That explains quite a few things.” Snape observed before standing close enough for Hermione to put the cloak on top of both.

Hermione wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but there was no time for further chatting.

“It doesn’t shield against sound, though, so we’ll have to be careful. And make sure it’s covering your feet.”

By then, Hermione had already a good notion of the chateau’s layout. It was one of the many seemingly abandoned ancient chateaus across France, except plenty of magical experiments were conducted there, many of them unethical. That Boucher figured out a way of doing a lot of wandless magic was good, but everything else going on under her supervision? Not so much.

Not many people were at the chateau at any given time, however, so that helped with walking around without being noticed. Still, every now and then, they’d have to stop and wait in complete silence for someone to walk past them.

Hermione had to admit to herself she was much more like Harry and Ron than she first thought. At the time she didn’t think it through, but maybe keeping Rita Skeeter hostage in a jar had been a little morally dubious. It was one of the many things she did throughout her time at Hogwarts that would make most raise their eyebrows.

And she did not hesitate much to throw herself into yet another life-threatening mission, even when that meant dealing with Snape. Who, in fact, was a much nicer company that she expected. That was a whole other type of thrill Hermione was not ready to think about.

It meant nothing, but the fact he found her attractive was a caress on her bruised ego after being neglected by Ron. She blamed herself, for a while. Maybe she could’ve been more comprehensive, more accommodating. They were both trying to soothe their wounds after the war. He was in grief.

And so was she, having to stay a year at a strange continent, hoping her parents would get their memories back – which, they didn’t, not even half of them. Why only she had to be accommodating? And why did she think only Ron would find her attractive?

If Snape thought so, then a lot of other people would, too.

Eventually, they made it outside and into the woods around the chateau. She put the cloak back in her pocket, taking a deep breath and offering her arm to Snape.

“Granger.” he called, before they walked inside the shack.

“Hm?”

“Thank you for getting me.”

It was also very flattering that she got to see that side of his. She didn’t think he’d be so heartfelt, though that made perfect sense. Someone so bitter and angry couldn’t be truly as cold as he tried to make himself look like.

“Anytime.” Hermione said with a smirk before opening the door behind her and walking inside. “Kingsley is going to kill me, though.”

Indeed. Before doing anything else, Hermione tried to contact him through the floo network.

“I’m here. I got Snape. We’re both safe. His wand is still there, though. You should tell someone to look for it while they’re at it.”

“I’m glad that you’re both safe, but we will discuss this whole situation later, Hermione. For the time being, the French minister just wants this to be dealt with, however your attitudes will be a problem, later. I hope you don’t think you’ll be allowed to do this while working for the Law Enforcement.”

“I won’t, Kingsley. I just had no time to lose. Snape was being hold hostage! And when I got there, he had lost track of time and some of his memories. Who knew what they were doing with him! He seems fine, but what could’ve happened to him while he was there...!”

“Yes … Like I said, I’m glad. However, I’m sure there were other ways to do this rather than prying out the information of a hostage. Which sounds much like what they were trying to do. Methods are what distinguish the good from the bad. We can’t go around doing the same thing they do.”

“Okay. I’ll remember that.”

“Well, rest, for the time being. I’ll come back with news later.”

With that, Kingsley left, and Snape entered the room, coming from the kitchen.

“I might have overheard some.” he said. “What is this about prying out the information of a hostage?”

“Yeah, about that. I might have gone through your stuff to get some _Veritaserum_. After you were kidnapped, I knocked out one of them and I brought her here. Eventually I managed to get the location of their headquarters, which was where you were. Kingsley was not happy. But I couldn’t think of anything else to do.”

“And where is this person now?”

Hermione took the jar out of her pocket. The beetle was there, still trying to escape.

“This beetle is her.” she said, and watched Snape raise an eyebrow. “I know, I know, it was not very ethical of me, I guess. I suppose I shouldn’t have chosen Law Enforcement. This is not the first time I do something like this. At the time, I didn’t think much of it, but maybe I could have done things differently.”

“This is not the first time you trap _someone_ in a jar?”

“No. I’ve trapped Rita Skeeter for a while, too. During my fourth year. And it was not even the first thing of the sorts I have done.”

“And during your second year? The Polyjuice potion? What you did you do with that?”

“Oh, Harry, Ron and I thought Malfoy might be the Slytherin heir. So I brewed it and we used that to spy on him. As it turned out, it was not Malfoy and we gave Crabbe and Goyle a sleeping potion for nothing.”

Snape was somewhere between mortified and amused. More mortified than amused.

Hermione let herself drop into the couch with a sigh. Snape followed suit and slipped onto the armchair. They were both too exhausted to do anything but sit there. The company wasn’t bad, either. 

 “I might also have set your cloak on fire. Remember that quidditch game? First year?”

“It had to be either you or that Weasley boy, I figured.” Snape replied. He was not angry, though. He was just talking. “At least to my face you respected me.”

“I misjudged you terribly.”

“And I didn’t give you much choice, now did I?”

“Your teaching ethics were terrible, yes. Clearly you were never meant to be in a classroom.”

“I can’t disagree.”

 “I’ve been wanting to ask you. Why were you like that? I mean… You’re not unpleasant. You’re kind of nice.”

“Kind of.” Snape echoed, hiding a smirk behind his fingers. “I wasn’t always _kind of_ nice. I’m sure you are aware.”

A shadow crossed his expression and stayed there. Hermione could tell the conversation was over. She got too comfortable and pried too much; she decided to give him some space.

“Well, I _kind of_ need a bath right now, so excuse me. Are you sure you’ll be alright by yourself? I mean, you’ve lost an entire day worth of memories.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Seriously. You can call me if something happens.”

“I’m not a child, Granger.” he replied, the sharp tone not unlike the one he used in the classroom.

“I hope you know this doesn’t work with me anymore. I already know you’re nice.” she said and tapped him on the shoulder, before leaving.

Hermione was just on a roll that day. Doing several illegal things, causing an international diplomatic incident, flirting with a former teacher. And not just any former teacher, but the most detestable one she could think of.

At least she was far from bored. 


	8. Diplomatic Incident

Snape was nowhere to be seen when Hermione came back down the stairs. Probably taking a shower, too. She decided to go for the liquor cabinet again. Although she was the only one with a wand, they weren’t in that much danger anymore. A shot of firewhiskey or two wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

She sat by the couch, feet up, with the glass resting against her stomach. The exhaustion of spending the entire day running against the clock and dealing with the situation all by herself hit her, then, though she was still too high on the adrenaline to sleep.

Could she picture herself living like that for decades? Well, she couldn’t picture herself living any other way.

Eventually, Snape showed up and raised an eyebrow at Hermione. She tipped her glass to him.

“Are you not the only person in the building with a wand?”

“I can hold my liquor just fine, thank you.”

“If you say so.”

To her surprise, he, too, grabbed a glass and the bottle and brought it to the center table. He poured himself a shot and swallowed it all in one swig. Then he poured himself another and only then he leaned back on the armchair.

“I guess we both had long days.” Hermione prompted, taking a sip. “What did Boucher do to you before I arrived?”

“She was _strongly persuading_ me into helping her. I suppose I forgot the worst of it.”

“Did she hurt you?”

“Only my feelings.”

“Oh, so you have those?”

Snape gave her a sideways glance and smirked.

“Unfortunately.”

Hermione smirked back. She enjoyed his deadpan humor. And she was getting a bit tipsy. Firewhiskey was a hell of a drink; that was why she liked it the best.

“You should be this cool around people more often.”

“I’d rather not have people expecting me to be this way always.” Snape replied. “They might start to even like me.”

“That’s too bad. I’m starting to like you.”

“And what a big mistake that is.”

Hermione served herself of a second shot and laughed for a moment. She was nowhere near drunk, but felt a lot more at ease.

“Wouldn’t be the first.”

Snape scratched his chin for a moment and stood with a deep breath.

“I’m going to fetch some water. One of us needs to have healthy drinking habits.”

He left the room with Hermione’s eyes glued to him. Handsome was quite the stretch, but looking by a certain angle, he seemed… Okay. Attractive, even. Ron was not much to look at either. Neither had been Krum.

Hermione dug into her pocket, going elbow deep to see if she had brought something very, very important. She was not a prude and knew lying to herself about it would only lead her to be unprepared.

Three condoms. He was forty. If anything were to happen, there was no way he could use all of that up in one night.

She wasn’t actually going to sleep with a former teacher, though, was she…? She put everything back in her pocket and waited for Snape to return.

“You aren’t going to be twenty forever. Neither will your liver.” he said when he got back, placing a glass of water on the center table, nearby her feet.

Wouldn’t she wonder forever what could have been? Didn’t Harry and Ron have a lot of fun being stupid and reckless? Why couldn’t she do the same? Why not let go for one night?

Why not?

She wouldn’t be twenty forever.

Hermione held his arm softly to stop him from returning to the armchair.

“Hey.”

“Yes?”

“Come here.”

He went silent, of course realizing what was going on. His face was unreadable. Hermione felt stupid for a second. What gave her the guarantee he’d say yes? Yes, he thought she was pretty, but sure she seemed too childish to his eyes. Maybe he was not into one-night stands.

“Are you… Sure?” was what he replied after several moments.

Hermione nodded. She barely gave him time to sit down before straddling him and kissing his lips. Within a heartbeat tongues were involved, and his hands were up her shirt, caressing her back.

Soon her shirt would be on the floor and his mouth would be sucking on one of her nipples, as she grabbed a fistful of his hair. Snape had a fantastic hairline for a middle-aged man, Hermione thought. A middle-aged man who had been her teacher. Who she was hooking up with.

One of his hands crept up her neck and his fingers dug into her hair. He gently but firmly pulled her head backwards and licked up her breast to her neck, to end up nibbling her earlobe. Any train of thought Hermione could be having was lost; a stifled moan escaped her lips.

Snape chuckled and the vibrations of his laughter against her neck went down her spine. He relaxed his grip on her hair and let her look at him.

“Are you still sure?” he asked of her.

Hermione would say whatever she needed to say to keep going, which at the time was:

“Yes.”

“Then we should be heading upstairs.”

She took the lead, while Snape followed, leaving a trail with his shirt and shoes behind him. Hermione enjoyed the little break to fish out the condoms again and lose the shorts before going into his bedroom.

Hermione threw the condoms in a corner of the bed and laid down, biting her bottom lip as he climbed on top of her, one hand propping himself up, the other slithering up her inner thigh and inside her panties. A small shiver rocked her body when his fingertips found their way to her clitoris.

She gave in to his touch, digging into the flesh of his shoulder blades as he kissed her neck and worked his magic. After a while, she felt comfortable enough to touch him back through his jeans. Hermione smiled upon finding rock hard stiffness, and laughed when Snape lost the pace of his heavy breathing.

That made him sat back on his ankles to take off her panties. Hermione got a bit embarrassed, then, she was not _that_ tipsy.

“Do you want to continue? You don’t have to if you are not feeling comfortable.” Snape asked for the third time, one hand on her thigh.

It felt weird. A good kind of weird.

“I’m fine. More than fine. Thanks for asking.”

Snape undid the buttons of his pants while leaning over to grab the condoms. He slid out of his pants then out of his boxers while Hermione stared at the ceiling, horny but still embarrassed. She was no virgin, of course. She saw some naked men before, though she was not expecting to see Snape in such a state.

At least he knew how to use a condom. That was a concern that brushed through her mind when she heard foil being ripped apart. He gently turned her to her side and laid down behind her. He didn’t do anything for a while, besides touching her with his fingers and kissing her shoulder.

Hermione’s thoughts escaped all over again when she felt him getting inside of her with a gentle thrust, one hand still between her thighs stimulating her. Her hips moved in sync with his as she felt the pressure build inside; her toes curled, she gasped and grasped the sheets as the pleasure culminated into an orgasm.  

“Merlin.” she breathed out, relaxing completely into Snape’s arms and kissing his lips.

He slipped out of her and sat up on the bed, back against the head of the bed. Hermione got his hint and crawled to sit on top of him, letting him inside again. Her hips rolled in a circular motion as his mouth was on one of her breasts again, his hands groping her ass.

Hearing his rapid breath getting even shallower was like music to her ears. Hermione used his own trick on him and nibbled his earlobe while pulling his hair. Soon he’d be moaning under her, hands urging her to move faster. He was finished with one long, final movement of hips.

Hermione kissed his cheek and rolled to the side, laying with her stomach down. Snape smiled to her and ran a finger down her face.

“How are you feeling?”

“Excellent.”

“Me too.”

She was not sure when she fell asleep. In the span of time that seemed like a bat of an eye, she woke up with the morning light hitting her face. A pale arm was thrown on top of her.

Hermione sat up, carefully putting away the arm and rubbing her eyes. The memories trickled back to her as she did so. The arm in question had a grey scar on it; seemed to be the result of a botched tattoo. The Dark Mark.

She started hyperventilating, then. Snape was not just her former teacher, or someone double her age. It was a former Death Eater. A Dark Arts expert. She didn’t think about that, although she knew it all along.

Snape, by the way, slept like a stone. His chest barely rose, but Hermione knew that this must be the effect of his sleeping potions. He had a stash that would last him a couple of weeks.

Thankfully, otherwise he would have woken up with Hermione’s high-pitched breath and her near fall out of bed. She picked her pants and went after the rest of her clothes down the stairs, trying to calm down. Why did she wait to feel conflicted over sleeping with a Death Eater until _after_ the fact?

The center table had now a parcel on top of it. A note said it was Snape’s wand.

Okay. So she didn’t need to stay there any longer. It was morning, Snape had his wand back. Hermione went to the room to pick up the rest of her belongings and ran away from the shack, disappearing with a loud crack a moment after.


	9. Breaking News

Severus didn’t like taking sleeping potions; it took him centuries in the morning to fully come to his senses. He was trying to wean himself, though that night he couldn’t have possibly relax enough to come around to it. Boucher had gotten to his nerves, and then…

And then there was Granger. Hermione.

He turned to the side of the bed she slept in and it was empty. Then he put on his boxers and went downstairs, still drowsy, and she was nowhere to be seen. Her belongings were no longer in the bedroom she occupied.

She left.

For some time, Severus was too numb to everything to work it out how he felt, but as soon as he was conscious enough, he recognized the hard sting of disappointment. It was something he would have to deal with; even though Granger didn’t spell it out, of course he knew it was a one-time only situation.

What was he expecting to happen afterwards?

A goodbye kiss would have been just common courtesy, Severus thought.

Of course, she did not feel the same way he did. Neither should she, in fact. Severus was self-aware enough to realize his feelings for her were more about his lack of purpose, though knowing that didn’t make any of it feel less real.  

He also thought he’d be able to shrug it all off. It was not worth losing a great experience over his complicated mess of emotional baggage. Well, maybe he miscalculated. Wouldn’t be the first time, now would it? He got wrong things he had much more than a couple of seconds to think about.

Severus dropped himself on the couch to open the parcel laid on top of the table. He was glad that he got his wand back. The note from Kingsley said that he should return to England as soon as possible and let him know so they could talk.

What would Kingsley say if he knew? If the agreement was that Severus was supposed to mentor or otherwise protect Granger, it would have been a much worse offense. Still… It felt unethical to have slept with her when they were working together on a mission. She proposed it, sure, but he said yes, and only got to that point because he was transparent as glass and flirted back.

Severus worked with teenage girls for years. He knew how deescalate situations like those – not hard at all with his looks and his manners – and he chose not to.

He decided not to think about it anymore and went on about his day, organizing his belongings to return to his house. It was as spotless as it was when he left it; after all, it only had been three days. The difference was the pile of Daily Prophets on top of the cabinet nearby the door, but Severus ignored those.

Kingsley sent him a note telling the meeting would be postponed to the following day, when Granger would be able to attend as well.

Severus then took a shower and another sleeping potion. He was exhausted, and didn’t think he’d want to be alone with his thoughts for the whole day.

OoOoO

Hermione didn’t even stop for a moment when dropping off her luggage at her apartment; she was supposed to meet with Kingsley at his house as soon as she got off the plane.

Kingsley’s wife rushed her in as usual.

“Mr. Snape is already upstairs. They were only waiting for you.”

“Oh… O-Okay. I’ll be going, then.”

Snape. She couldn’t keep a straight face while thinking of him. Everything happened too fast. One minute he was the teacher torturing her on classroom by insulting her intelligence, the next he was a double agent who killed Dumbledore, and a heartbeat later, he’d be the one with his fingertips up her panties.

It was hard to return to the time when she thought it would be a fun idea to sleep with him. What was she thinking?

She took the longest time she could take on her way to Kingsley’s study, but it was not a very long walk. Soon she was knocking lightly on the door, hoping they wouldn’t hear so she could run somehow and never come back.

Kingsley opened it.

“You look a little ill.”

“Yeah. I don’t do well with planes.”

That was a lie. She rode airplanes all the time to visit her parents.

“Come on in. Did anyone show up at the airport to bother you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, from what I can tell, none of you have seen the newspapers. Good. I didn’t want to tell you before you were safe. In case it disturbed you.”

Hermione swallowed dry when she had to sit on the chair beside Snape, who acknowledged her presence with a nod. She waved shyly at him, unable to keep eye contact; she wanted not to make it so obvious she hadn’t thought through what hooking up with him would mean to her. Out of all people in the wizardry world she could have possibly hooked up with.

Kingsley went to sit behind his desk. He looked… Amused.

“I see you are in better terms now.” he said, and pulled a Daily Prophet out of a drawer. “I hope you are ready to not have peace for the next couple of months, at least.”

“Why?” Hermione asked.

“See for yourself.”

Shackebolt handed the Daily Prophet to her, and it had TORRID LOVE AFFAIR BETWEEN FORMER DEATH EATER AND MUGGLEBORN HEROINE? Right on the front page.

Then there was a picture of she and Snape sitting by the restaurant of her hotel. Although he looked way different without the hair and his teaching robes, it was still clear it was him. And Hermione always stood out; that picture was no different.

_Ever since her messy break-up with Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger seemed to have focused on her career. Did she really, or was she having an affair with the most controversial figure of the wizardry world under our noses? Could it have started when Granger was still a teenager in Hogwarts and Severus Snape a staff member of unknown loyalty? Did they escape to France to secretly elope?_

Rita Skeeter. Of course.

“Oh my _God_.” Hermione muttered her breath.

When it was too bad, she referred back to God and not to Merlin.

“What is it?” Snape said, taking the newspapers out of her hands.

Blush crept up his neck as his eyes went side to side, reading the article. By the end of it, his face was nearly as red as the scars from Nagini’s attack. Hermione would be blushing, too, if her skin was pale enough to show. Rita Skeeter’s blown up story somehow was closer to the truth than they’d be comfortable with.  

“This is from a couple of days ago. I didn’t want to say in case… Well, it got in the way of the investigation. Despite the shortcomings, you’ve done a great job. I’ve managed to talk the French Minister out of issuing an investigation on what happened and calling you to testify. I might have implied some of this news were true, to get out of that tight spot. I didn’t know what else to do. Can you imagine the diplomatic ruckus it would cause?”

Snape slowly put the newspaper on top of the desk, swallowing hard.  

“What is it that you want us to do?” he asked, trying to hide his face behind his fingers.  

“Lay low for a while.” Kingsley replied. “I’m not going to ask you to keep up with the story. You don’t have to, really. Try not to be seen together again, in case you want to have some peace of mind, though from what I could tell when trying to get you two to work together, this won’t be a problem.”

“I’m sure it won’t.”

Hermione’s mile was running at a thousand kilometers per hour.

“But what am I going to say to other people? What will I say to my colleagues at the Ministry? What about Harry and Ron?”

“The problem of the Ministry was already solved. I issued a memo to all departments that I will not tolerate harassment or gossiping. You may tell the truth to Harry and Ron. They will probably be angry at me for keeping them out of this issue, but I can live with it.”

“This is _so_ bad. Torrid love affair?”

“I know this is shocking to you.” said Kingsley. “But people will forget all about it given time.”

Snape rolled his eyes and chimed in the best of his teacher fashion, the blood going away from his face as he became more annoyed than embarrassed:

“I’m not sure why you are making such a fuss. This is not the first time this happens to you and thankfully this saved us from being investigated.”

The tone of his made Hermione’s skin crawl. It was like she was back at the Potions classroom, though she was not his student anymore, so she retorted:

“Well, you barely see anyone on a day to day basis. But I do. I will have to deal with people thinking…” Her voice lowered as she spoke. “I have an affair with you.”

It was true, in a way…

“And would that be the end of the world, Granger? Will it ruin your life forever? You sure are making it seem like it will.”

Hermione settled down some upon looking him in the eyes. She knew him a bit better, then. Beneath the apparent annoyance, Snape was upset. They _did_ sleep together. Was Hermione that ashamed of it?

She knew Snape wouldn’t say anything either, but it was not shame that moved him. She’d be upset too, if it were. 

“I—”

“Is it all we had to discuss?” asked Snape, turning away from her. “I wish to return to my home and not leave until this goes away.”

“Yes, I think this is all.”

After hearing that, he stormed out of the room. Hermione was left with her eyes on the door he closed shut, aware that she acted like a major git to him. If she were to be so embarrassed about it, then why do it at all? Why act like the possibility was the worst thing ever that could happen to her?

She wanted it, pursued it, flirted with him. And it had been a nice night, anyway. He was way better at it than she was expecting.  

“That sure put him in a mood.” Kingsley observed. “He’ll be fine, though. Will you?”

“C-can you give me his address?”

“Severus’? Why?”

“I don’t have a way of getting in touch with him. I feel like I should apologize for being so dramatic about it. It won’t be easy for him.”

“I’m sure. You do that.”

Hermione shoved the paper with the address deep on her pocket and fled, too. Though her apartment was not the safe haven she thought it would be: Harry and Ron were waiting for her there.


	10. Time Changes Everything

“Mione, what is happening?” asked Harry as soon as she walked into the room.

The two visitors were sitting by the couch. Ron just looked at her with a green tint to his cheeks.

“Well, first of all, it was Rita Skeeter who wrote that article. I can’t believe the two of you thought it was true.” Hermione said. “Think about it. There are so many things wrong with it I cannot even start.”

“So i-it’s not you on the photo?” asked Ron.

Hermione sighed and sat down as well. It would be a long evening.

“Yes, it is me and Snape in this picture. We actually did go to France.”

“What were you doing in France? With _Snape_?”

Ron was by far the most shocked at it. Harry fell into contemplative silence, something very unlike him. Then again, hooking up with Snape was very unlike Hermione. Maybe times were just changing.

“Working! He’s working at the Ministry too, you know. Kingsley gave us a task and we we’re careless. We didn’t think that being seen together in another country would cause this whole mess.”

Harry chimed in:

“Does it have to do with that crazy lady that got caught for murdering four families?”

“Yes, that one. She was trying to create another human horcrux. The French Ministry didn’t care for it much, so Kingsley decided to intervene, but he couldn’t do it officially, so he called us. We figured out her secret organization and handed them over to the aurors. That’s it. That’s what we did.”

“They were trying to create another me. And why was I not called for this? Why were Ron and I kept in the dark?”

“Yeah, Mione, why didn’t you say something to us?”

That sounded more like the two friends she had always known…

“You are always out travelling! Kingsley didn’t pick Snape and I because he liked us better. We are both working for the Ministry, so he could count on us to act on the Ministry’s best interest. For the time being, we can’t even discredit this story about us, because the French Minister think it’s true and we were caught in the middle by accident.”

“Yeah, but—”

“I’m sure you two would be more than able to do it, but if you want to be treated like adults, then act like adults. You are never home! Almost never come visit me or write me! You don’t look very reliable when all you do is show up on newspapers enjoying the fame!”

Hermione was nearly yelling by the time she was done. She saved that speech up for two whole years, when she was trying to pick up her pieces, move on, and be an adult, and they were taking advantage of their status to have fun. They were never there for her. Ron, especially.

He was the one who broke the heavy silence after Hermione went quiet.

“But how did you handle working with the git? After all he said and did to you when he was a teacher?”

Although Snape could not hear her, she felt bad for once again denying so vehemently the rumors, and acting like it would be such an outrageous thing. Of course mentioning the fact they had sex was not something neither she nor he were supposed to do, but pretending it was something that would never happen was just too over the top.

It was not supposed to be a shameful secret.

“It’s different now.” She said. “He’s kind of nice, actually.”

“Nice. Now that’s just news to me.”

“Look, there’s more to Snape than what it seems. He’s a good person.” Harry came in Hermione’s defense. “Deep down.”

Ron crossed his arms and snorted.

“You will never tell us what you know about him that made you change your mind, right?”

“I can’t. I’m sorry. He didn’t outright say it because at the time he was still mute from, you know, Nagini’s attack, but I could see it in his eyes that he’d kill me if I said anything about it. And I get it. It’s private.”

Hermione realized she could probably get access to the files of his trial if she wanted to, and read Harry’s testimony, but… She wanted to respect Snape’s privacy on that. It was not like it mattered anymore. If Harry was sure that Snape was a good person, then Hermione would trust him on that matter.

She just wasn’t sure if his past was something she could get over. Her reaction upon seeing the Dark Mark on his arm reminded her of that. Why was she thinking about it, though? She wouldn’t sleep with him a second time.

If she did nothing, they wouldn’t even speak to each other again, though she was determined to at least try and apologize for making it seem like their night together was something abhorrent. It was just very unsettling to know what he sounded like when he came. Or that he was a human being with desires. One of those desires happened to be her, at least for a moment.

Most importantly, she could not reconcile the image she had from him to the real deal. Especially since the two things were not so far apart that she could think his personality and behavior of the past was all an act to keep his cover; yet she still found him attractive.

“Working with him was fine, really. I doubt it will happen again, since we are from different departments and all.”

“And how is it like? Working at the ministry? Are you liking it?” Ron said, in a sudden change of subject.

“Yes, I’m liking it. None of what we did will matter in the future if the Ministry isn’t on the right hands. I want to make a difference. As long as pureblood supremacy is still an issue, someone like Voldemort could rise again.”

“I’m sorry we weren’t here for you, Mione. We’ll do better. Maybe we could try to be aurors now, what do you think?”

“That would be grand. We’d get to work together now and again, since I’m Law Enforcement, so…”

Hermione took a deep breath. It went better than she expected. There was still an apology she needed to write, but, for the moment, she’d enjoy the company of her friends. The evening went on with pints of butterbeer and explosive snaps; Harry and Ron ended up falling asleep on her couch.

When she woke up the following day to go to work, they were still fast asleep. She left Harry’s cloak by the center table with a thank you note before going to work.

She arrived an hour earlier than usual as to avoid the extra attention she’d get; there were some eyes on her, but nothing too terrible happened until she holed up in her cubicle.

Since there was time before the hour she actually had to work, she decided to pull out a parchment and write an apology to Snape.

_Dear Severus…_

Scratch.

_Severus Snape,_

Scratch.

_I’m sorry that I slept with you when I hadn’t thought through what it would mean to me and I was a jerk and I hope that-_

Scratch.

_I’m sorry._

Hermione decided to keep that part. Then she wrote:

_I didn’t mean to upset you. I should have been more considerate, and not have disappeared the morning after. I was confused, and I admit a bit shocked, after the effects of firewhiskey wore off. I don’t regret it all, though. It was wonderful._

Straight to the point and even complimented his performance. He’d like that.

_Hopefully we can be friends from now on._

_Granger_

Maybe the friends part was too much of a stretch, but Hermione kept it anyway. It was a genuine offer, even if the thought of being friends with him also felt very out of place. Much less so than the fact they had sex.

When she was back at her apartment and read over the letter before sending it to Snape, she knew he wouldn’t reply. Maybe he wouldn’t even read it. But she had to give it a try.

OoOoO

Severus took a sip of coffee without taking his eyes out of the letter by his counter. It was from Granger. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to read it. What did she have to say to him? Where did she even find his address?

Kingsley, of course.

The most important thing was that he didn’t want to feed the flames when it came to her. If there was a piece of wisdom he learned with age, was that feelings eventually went away if they were not nourished.

Not even his love for Lily resisted the passage of time.

A silly crush on Granger would go away within no time if he kept his distance. Keeping his distance was, of course, a bit trickier, since she was alive and didn’t even need to be in the room to torment his thoughts. That had been the first time he had sex in a… While. Thank Merlin he was forty or else he would have embarrassed himself terribly.  

Maybe having sex with her was a terrible mistake, though it was not one he regretted making.

He did allow himself to read her letter. Just so he knew where they stood in case they ran into each other.

When Severus was done reading, he vanished the note with a flick of his wand. No, he wouldn’t be friends with her. It would be too dangerous after how fast he went from dreading working with her to being somewhat obsessively into her.

And the worst of it was that shift was not without reason. She had grown into a beautiful young woman, which was the first thing he noticed; however, it wouldn’t have mattered at all if he didn’t realize how intelligent, witty and cunning she was. Maybe if she had been born a decade earlier…

If they ever met again, Severus would be polite, but wouldn’t seek out anything more than civility.

It was for the best.


	11. Botched Attempt

Hermione’s heart couldn’t stop itself from feeling warm when walking into The Burrow. She was glad to be back. Ron would not speak to her for months after their breakup, so it had been a while since the last time she was invited to a Weasley event.

And it was, indeed, an event. A table was set up on the yard outside. Neville, Luna and a few others from Hogwarts should be coming, too. 

“Mione, it’s nice to see you.” said Ginny, taking Hermione’s overnight bag. “It’s been a while.”

“When Ron invited me, he said it was only a dinner. What is it about the table outside?”

Ginny snorted a laugh.

“Well, he was clearly understating it. Mom is so proud that she wanted to invite the whole extended family. Come, you’ll be sleeping in my room tonight. There’s something I want to talk to you.”

“Sure.”

Ginny’s room was filled with pictures of quidditch athletes and her own prizes; she was already being invited to the top professional teams. She put Hermione’s bag on the empty bed and sighed.

“Look, I didn’t want Ron to spring this trap on you without you being at least aware of what he’s planning. He wants to win you over again. This whole dinner thing is to announce he and Harry were accepted to the Ministry’s training program. To become aurors.”

“O-Oh.”

“Yeah. I even told him, if I were you, I would never even want to see him again. Not only he was a lousy boyfriend, he was a lousy friend. Harry was, too. I told him that.”

Hermione studied the posters on the wall and sighed, remembering her year of exile in Australia. They barely even replied to her letters. And after she ended things, she only even knew he was alive because Harry or Ginny wrote.

Things were a little better during the term she spent at Hogwarts, completing her NEWTs, but they were still far from ideal. If it weren’t for Kingsley, she would have spent her holidays by herself.

“Yeah. He was a lousy boyfriend.”

“I do feel obligated to tell you he really loves you. It’s been so long, and he still thinks so much about you. You don’t find that lying around just about anywhere. He’s my brother, I love him, and I know he learned from his mistakes.”

“Took him long enough.”

“Well, just be aware of that when dealing with him tonight.”

“I will.”

Ginny left, and Hermione stayed back for a while, though Ron intercepted her before she could get outside to join everyone else. There was no one else in the house; everyone was out, helping putting things together.

“Mione. Hi. I’m happy that you’re here.”

She looked at him and didn’t feel a thing, but Ginny’s words echoed on her mind. _You don’t find that lying around just about anywhere_. Hermione had also come to a better understanding of him after the Snape fiasco. Sometimes… One just had to be stupid and act their age. 

Maybe that door would open again, with time and effort.

“I’m happy to be here. What is this about?”

“I just have fantastic news. Harry and I, in fact. But it’s a secret. We’ll tell when it’s dinner time.”

Hermione smiled as if she did not already know what the news were and what he wanted by talking to her alone, away from everyone.

“Okay. I’ll wait, then.”

“Listen, I just want to apologize to you for everything since… You know. The break up.”

“It’s been over a year, Ronald.”

Ronald. That word rolled off her tongue so easily, just like old times.

“Yes, I’m not the sharpest quill on the box.” he replied, stepping closer. “I… I still think about you. Every day. I love you. I want to be better, for you.”

“And what do you want me to say?”

Ron stepped closer once more and wrapped a hand around her waist, a thumb drawing circles on her back.

“I forgive you for being an asshole, maybe?”

“You’ll have to wait around a bit for that.”

He pulled her closer and kissed her. Hermione didn’t protest, and even kissed him back a little, though it rather felt like making out with a brother. Still, when he whispered, “Let’s go upstairs for a bit” in her ear, she said yes.

OoOoO

_Two Months Later_

“So when do you plan on stopping sleeping with other people?” whispered Ron against the curve of Hermione’s neck. “I know how many condoms are in your bedside drawer, you know.”

Hermione scooted away from him and sat up on the bed.

“I did tell you things wouldn’t be so simple. We broke up a long time ago, and I have been through so much without you. You can’t expect me to feel the way I felt about you then so readily.”

Truth was, the more time passed, the more Hermione knew there was just no turning back the clock on that matter.  

“We’ve been seeing each other for two months. Can’t you at least stop having sex with other people? I’m not asking you to marry me or anything.”

“How can I be cheating on you if we are not together? Don’t confuse things, Ron. I agreed in trying to give you another shot, but I’m not settled just yet, and I made myself very clear on that. If you want me back so much, you’ll have to respect my time.”

Ron pursed his lips and looked away. Things were clearly not going the way he planned. Hermione wanted to give it a shot, she did, but things were just not working. That said, it was morning and she was late for work.

They would talk about it later, for sure.

She managed to arrive on the nick of time. She didn’t get much work done that day, however. An hour later, a memo from Kingsley would tell her to meet him at the entrance lobby. And to bring a coat.

“What is it?” Hermione asked as soon as she ran into him.

“I’m going to St. Mungos. I thought you might want to come, too.”

“W-Why?”

“You’ll see. Don’t think it’s safe to comment anything here.”

He used the Floo Network to get there, and Hermione did the same. When she got to the hospital, a nurse was talking to Kingsley in hushed whispers and stopped when Hermione got closer.

“It’s okay. She came with me.”

“Oh.” said the old lady. “That makes sense. When I read the newspapers, I thought it was all made-up bullshit.”

Hermione frowned.

“What are you talking about?”

“Mr. Snape, dear. Do you want to see him?”

Hermione and Kingsley exchanged glances.

“We’d like to, yes.” he replied.

Things didn’t feel quite real as they walked in the wing with the more critical patients’ rooms. Shackelbolt filled Hermione in:

“Severus is a very reliable employee. When he was late this morning, I sent someone to his house, and he was barely even breathing on his bed.”

The old nurse opened the door to this room. It was all in aseptic white, with no decoration. Just the bed and a couple of chairs.

Snape was lying down on the bed, his breath so slow and shallow, that Hermione couldn’t even tell from afar that he was, in fact, alive.

“He’s a tough nut to crack.” said the nurse after closing the door. “This is the second time he comes in nearing death and manages not to die, somehow. Last time, his neck was split open. This time, it seems he took a botched sleeping potion. He would have died within a couple of hours if left for his devices. Thirty minutes longer than what it took for him to get here and he’d be a vegetable. He will be fine, though. If he wakes up.”

“ _If_?” Hermione exclaimed.

“We could be more certain that he will wake up if we knew what exactly was in the potion he took. I called the Prime Minister here because he was a regular visitor of Mr. Snape’s last time. Isn’t there anyway for you to figure out what he used?”

“I’ll try to search his house after our visit is done. Thank you, Mrs. Blackstone.”

“I’ll leave you two be. You have an hour.” she said before removing herself from the room.

Kingsley waited a couple of minutes before saying:

“Between us, he’d never screw up a potion. I’m afraid this was a suicide attempt.”

Hermione had to pick one of the chairs to sit down. That was a lot to absorb in just a few short minutes.

“A… A what now?”

“I wanted you to come with because, besides me, you were the one having the most contact with him recently. Maybe he did commit a mistake with his potion. But did he say or do anything that might hint at the fact he wanted to end his own life?”

“I haven’t spoken to him since the mission. Not that I didn’t try to.” Hermione replied. It seemed like it happened a decade before… Everything came back right back at her, though, as she reexamined their time together. “He… He told me he couldn’t cast a patronus. Remember when I sent a patronus to you? I did it because he couldn’t. I thought it was because of the Dark Mark, I don’t know, I… Didn’t pay attention. He didn’t want to talk about it.”

“How did it get so bad and I didn’t notice?” Kingsley asked to himself, sitting down too.

“What do you mean?”

“The risk of him trying to kill himself is not new. But he could cast a patronus a couple of years ago, even when Voldemort was alive, and the Dark Mark was active. If he can’t anymore, then… It got _real_ bad. I assume he hid it because he didn’t want me to intervene.”

“Oh. I had no idea…”

“It’s okay, Hermione. There was no way you could have realized it. I assume you barely know him or his past.”

“I don’t. I really don’t.”

Kingsley reached out to squeeze Hermione’s hand.

“It’s okay. We should be going. There’s nothing to be done here. I’ll go this house and try to figure out what the hell he did to get to this state. You should get back to work, or go home, whatever you prefer. I can tell you’re too shaken. If you want to, call a friend. Don’t be alone, if you can help it.”

“Can I ask you a question? About Snape?”

“Of course. I’ll try to reply the best I can.”

“You do know about his past, right?”

“Yes, I do.”

“If you were a muggleborn, would you forgive him for what he has done?”

“It’s not my place to say… I’m not a muggleborn myself. All I know is that he has been trying hard to undo his mistakes and be a better person. He deserves the chance to at least keep trying. I wish he could see that, too.”

“I… I think I’ll stay a while longer.”

“Are you sure you will be fine?”

“I will. Thank you for worrying.”

“Alright. I should be going, then. Don’t stay here too long.”

Took her a while to work up the courage and stand by his bed. The truth was that he had grown on her and she worried for his wellbeing, despite not accepting the little she knew of his past.

“Please don’t give up just yet.” she asked of him and kissed his forehead goodbye.


	12. Awakening

Hermione was only able to process the whole situation enough to cry about it when it was night time. Unfortunately, it was also the time Ron came back around the apartment to finish the discussion they were having in the morning.

“Mione, are you… Are you crying?”

“I have been crying for a couple hours now, thanks for asking.” she said, hugging her knees at the corner of the bed she didn’t leave since she arrived at home, several hours before.

“W-why? Is it because of me?”

“Not you. Snape is in the hospital. He tried to kill himself, and I should have known it was coming.”

Ron set their problems aside and laid down to cuddle her, even though he had a quizzical look on his face. He should be wondering why Hermione cared so much about it.

“Why do you mean you should have known?”

“Remember the mission I had, that caused the problem with the newspapers and all? Well, I should have realized that he was suicidal, and I didn’t. I was actually a major asshole to him.”

“Nothing he didn’t deserve, though, I bet.”

“ _Ronald_!”

“Okay, I’m sort of shocked and sad that this happened! But I haven’t seen the guy in years and last time I saw him, he was a Death Eater. Forgive me if I’m not weeping my eyes out about it. What did you do to him that is making you feel so bad?”

Nothing she could talk about openly, for sure… Though if she didn’t talk about it all, she’d explode.

“I sort of threw his past on his face when he was trying to be nice to me. There’s nothing he can do about it anymore, so it was really unfair what I did.”

“Oh. You aren’t thinking he killed himself over it, are you?”

 “It didn’t help, that’s for sure.”

“Is he going to be okay?”

“No one knows, yet.”

“Merlin’s testicles. How did you know?”

“I was one of the last people to see him before the attempt, so Kingsley wanted to ask me a few questions about the mission.”

Ron kissed the top of her head and held her close until she recovered enough to take a bath, and change into new clothes. While she lay in the tube, she realized it was that kind of support she would have wanted from him a year ago.

Something had changed. Even when he did the right thing, it had no effect on her whatsoever. She would always love him, but not like a partner. It just didn’t click anymore. Probably never did. He wouldn’t take the news very well…

Then again, what did she want in a partner?

She was twenty. Maybe she didn’t have to know. Marrying the school sweetheart at the age of twenty-one and start popping out babies sounded very sweet, but it was not for her. She saw what life was like for Mrs. Weasley. It was not for everyone to live like that.

Hermione kept trying to find the courage and the right words to tell Ron that for the next several days, but Snape’s condition kept eating away her concentration. Or she used that as an excuse to avoid the conflict that was bound to happen.

She visited him as often as possible and immersed herself in research about suicide, while pretending all was well to Ron’s face. He would be incredibly pissed off, for sure, because he was trying so hard to make things work; it was not enough – hence why Hermione procrastinated breaking up with him – and it came around too late.

Eventually, that excuse ran out. A couple of weeks later, Hermione was leaving the Ministry to go home when Kingsley approached her on the lobby and pulled her aside to a quiet corner.  

“Hermione, I have good news. It seems Severus is close to waking up.”

“Is he?”

“I’ve managed to figure what was it that he took, and the antidote seems to be working. He still asleep, but it won’t be long until he wakes up. I was wondering if you wouldn’t like to come visit him with me. Talk to him a little. See if stimulation makes him wake up a little faster. Mrs. Blackstone said it would help.”

“O-okay. I will.”

Getting there, it was a whole another picture than Hermione’s last visit, three days before. He was still sleeping, though the rhythm of his chest was strong; he had a bit of a scowl to his face and the muscles of his shoulders were tense. Hermione smiled out of relief and said:

“He sure looks like he’s about to wake up.”

“It might be a day or two still. But it should be soon.”

“I’ll try to come everyday and talk to him a little.”

“I’ll do the same. Maybe bring in the twins to have one of their fights in here and see if he doesn’t wake up to tell them to shut up.” Kingsley said, as relieved as Hermione.

That plan never came into fruition. A harsh groan interrupted the conversation. Snape opened his eyes and scanned the room through half-opened lids. Then he closed his eyes again and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“For fuck’s sake.”

“Severus, how do you feel?”

“I’m perfectly fine. Why do you ask?” he replied, eyes still closed.

It became very clear it had been a suicide attempt. Snape oozed anger and disappointment when he opened his eyes at last and sat up to take a good look at Kingsley and Hermione.

“Really? You just spent two weeks sleeping because of a sleeping potion. Do you want to talk about it?” Kingsley replied.

“No.”

OoOoO

Severus had been somewhat cognizant about his surroundings for some time before waking up. In a state between deep slumber and consciousness, he knew his attempt failed. Actually waking up and having to deal with the fallout of it was something was… Something else.

Kingsley would never leave him alone again.

“Snape, don’t be like that. Kingsley have been worried sick. I have been worried sick.”

And what in the hell was Granger doing in the room?

“Oh, _you_ have been worried sick?” Severus replied, with his coldest glare on his eyes.

“Yes, I have. I did try to be in touch and you never replied me. I came to visit you as often as I could.”

Okay. Severus had to acknowledge that he turned her away.

What happened in the two months he tried to kill his feelings for her was that the whole situation with the Daily Prophet left him even more isolated. He couldn’t peacefully live his life in the wizardry world. And living in the muggle world would just lead him to live an even bigger lie.

There was no comfortable place for him. And he should have died in the war, anyway. All the more reason to end it all.

“Severus, let us help you out, here. We don’t want you to be dead.”

“Does my opinion on the matter not count?”

“What is your opinion the matter? Enlighten us.”

“My opinion on the matter, is that I’m alive when much better people are dead, some of them because of me. I shouldn’t have survived the war. And now that I did, I can’t even leave my house without it making first page! What I’ve done was not even enough to undo the damage I’ve caused.”

Kingsley and Granger were plain shocked. Severus didn’t understand why. For a while, he became even greater news than Potter himself. Lots of people wondered if he deserved being considered innocent of his crimes. The number of people who thought he should be dead was not insignificant. He could not leave his house without anyone staring, trying to either hex him or take a photo.

It got better, then the whole business with his supposed affair made it all come right back. Unfortunately, he was not living under a rock, and he knew most people just assumed the worst and thought it had been an ongoing thing since Hermione was his student. Severus was a lot of bad things, but a predator wasn’t one of them.

“It was enough, Severus. Without your efforts, we wouldn’t have won. You’ve protected the students of Hogwarts and many people of the Order.” Said Kingsley. “What you did in your past was unfortunate… But you’ve been given a second chance, either you like it or not, and I want to make sure you will seize it.”

He would say that, of course. Someone else in the room could think differently, though.

“What does Granger say about it? Are you aware I’m the one who leaked the prophecy to Voldemort? Willingly, I might add. Does a person like that deserve to be alive?”

Granger didn’t reply for a good minute.

“Why did you turn sides, then?”

“Because this ended up putting a person I cared about in danger. I turned to protect her, and _only_ her. Everyone else’s safety be damned. That’s particularly selfish, if you ask me.”

“And ended up doing much more than just that.” Kingsley intervened. “You’re trying to paint the worst possible picture to get her to say what you want to hear.”

“It’s not anyone’s place to judge.” said Granger, at least. “Not yours, either. All I know is that, regardless of either I can personally live with what you did or not, I’d like you to be alive right now. Okay? Don’t try to manipulate me into saying you should be dead. I will never do it. If I’m here, if I worry, is because I don’t think that.”

Severus rubbed his own face, trying to think. He wanted to die so badly, it was a pain he carried every waking moment. How he could do it now that he was bound to be watched every second of his day?

“Unfortunately, your past will keep following you.” said Kingsley. “That’s a terrible fact. Not everyone is so focused on it that they can’t see you for who you are right now. What I see in front of me is a good person who deserves happiness and peace of mind and can’t have it because he won’t accept any help.”

“That’s what I see, too.”

“I’m impressed. That even seems genuine.” Severus replied.

Granger didn’t miss a beat:

“I get it, you’re angry that you’re alive, and you can keep making it worse on yourself by being a prick to everyone who wants to help, or you can try to not make yourself so miserable. You’re not leaving this hospital until you get truly better. Might as well get started now and not waste your time.”

Severus remembered coming around to that conclusion himself a while back, that maybe he should try to be less detestable. Somewhere along the line, it stopped making sense, but the results were palpable. Wasn’t Granger there? All he did was be kind to her for a couple of days.  

Just because she was shocked at the fact they ended up having sex – which was understandable, they were tipsy at the time, he was old enough to be her father and there was a whole list of reasons why that development was shocking – didn’t mean she disliked him.

He only rejected her offer of friendship because he couldn’t deal with attractive women without falling obsessively in love, but he wanted _not_ to be like that. It didn’t even feel genuine. How could he be in love after such little time?

He no longer would have a choice about being around Granger, it seemed, so he’d have to try and not be so obsessive. 

Kingsley clearly cared, and have been caring, for the past couple of years. Severus didn’t want to waste his time, either.

And the worst that could happen if he tried, was he leaving the hospital and getting worse, in which case he’d be in position to try killing himself again and make it count. He just needed to feel well enough to be discharged.

“Fine. I can’t argue against efficient time management.”


	13. Therapy Business

“What do you think he’s going to do when he finds out he’ll be discharged soon, probably?” Kingsley said after he and Hermione left Snape’s room. “This wing is for Potion Poisoning. The poisoning has been undone.”

“Well, I haven’t thought that far ahead. But he must stay here. If he goes home, you know he’ll try again and succeed. And neither of us can babysit all day. In fact, I’m sure it will make things worse.”

“A psychiatric ward is certainly missing from this hospital.”

The wizardry community had some glaring issues other than pureblood supremacy. One of them was that some areas of knowledge remained stagnant. One would think that with Potions, every health issue under the sun would be taken care of; still, terms like depression or mental health didn’t even exist in the mediwizards’ vocabulary. Psychiatry and psychology were two unheard of things in the wizardry world.

There wasn’t a potion Snape could take and suddenly not want to kill himself. There was no therapist that could hear him out about his problems and offer healthy coping mechanisms. Hermione looked hard for it while he was unconscious, and she found nothing.

“What about the Janus Thickey ward? I know it’s not ideal, but it’s someplace he can stay for the time being. And, you know, even if it’s impossible to clear the whole ward of items or ways he could use to commit suicide, I’m quite sure he won’t dare to try. If only because he doesn’t want to draw any more attention to himself.”

The Daily Prophet heard of his hospitalization. No one seemed to conclude it had been a suicide attempt, however they’d catch up on that, especially if Snape tried again. And if he was already bothered by the way his life was blown out of proportion, he’d be mad if his death was, as well.

“I’ll go and talk to the administration and see to it. Nice thinking.”

Hermione exhaled a relieved breath. She was very disturbed from his revelation that he leaked the prophecy to Voldemort, but… She cared. And she cared despite being aware he did terrible things from the very beginning. That wouldn’t change just because she came to know the details.

Yet, it was still very disturbing to know.

“Hermione, do you wish to talk? About what he said?”

“I… Yes, I do.”

“Then come to have dinner with my family. We can talk about it afterwards.”

“That sounds great.”

Hermione could use the company. Hanging out Kingsley’s family always brought back a much needed sense of normalcy and belonging. She felt much better after a good meal and conversations that revolved around regular things, like the kids’ school – it seemed like Hogwarts happened an eon before – and Mrs. Shacklebolt’s pottery.

When she sat down on Kingsley’s backyard with a glass of wine, she felt ready to tackle down the questions going through her mind.

“Kingsley, can you tell me the full story? About Snape leaking the prophecy?”

“There isn’t much to say. He took the Dark Mark as soon as he was out of Hogwarts. It seems Voldemort had his superior education paid for, because as soon as he had his Masters on Potions, he was ordered to apply to a position in Hogwarts, allegedly to spy on Dumbledore. From what I could gather, he was a quiet kid during Hogwarts, despite hanging out with the wrong crowd. No one really would have known he became a Death Eater.

“Trewlaney wanted to apply, too. When she delivered the prophecy to Dumbledore, Severus was there to overhear it through the door. The prophecy was reason enough for Voldemort to consider his services satisfactory, even if he didn’t get the job.

“And then he realized the prophecy possibly applied to an old friend he was no longer in touch with. Hence why he didn’t know she was pregnant at the time.”

Old friend…? That could only be Alice Longbottom or…

“Do you mean _Harry’s mother_?”

Kingsley gravely nodded yes.

“But he called her a… A mudblood! What the hell?”

“Severus in his youth was not someone I’d like to befriend, let’s put it that way.”

Hermione sunk into the chair and looked at an empty spot for a moment, trying to digest everything and make sense of his behavior of the past with the new information she just acquired.

I turned to protect her, and _only_ her, he had said. Not her soon to be born baby. Not her husband – Hermione remembered Harry’s shock upon finding out his father bullied Snape.

“He was in love with her, wasn’t he?” Hermione said to herself. “Or thought so, anyway.”

“Pretty much.”

After reflecting on it for a while, Hermione settled down and understood it. Seemed contradictory, didn’t it, to join the Death Eaters all the while being “in love” with a muggleborn?

Except Hermione was aware of how a man’s love could be objectifying.

That was harsh to know of Snape. Especially considering how well he ended up treating her during the mission, which led her to want to sleep with him.

Oh God.

Was he _still_ like that?

Kingsley’s heard her thoughts:

“If he were still that way, I wouldn’t care as much as I do. He made the right choices for the wrong reasons at first, I’ll give you that.”

“That’s one way to put it, yes. I… Okay. Let’s assume I’m still invested in his wellbeing. What can I do about it?”

She wasn’t quite sure how she’d feel next time she saw him. For the time being, however shocking it was to know about his motivations, she somehow still wanted to see him well.

“I don’t think you can do more than what you’re already doing, which is being present. It’s ultimately his choice to get better. We can offer the tools. I’ve been thinking… Maybe I can appoint him to a therapist.”

“But—”

“Not all muggles are unaware of the wizardry world. And I’m sure you know by now, no one who isn’t a professional will be able to handle the entirety of the issues he might be having with himself.”

“That’s fair. Will he want to go to a therapist?”

“No. Persuading him into it is worth a try, though. This is where we come in.”

OoOoO

As it turned out, Severus could not foresee the difficulties of trying to feel better. There was no specific sector of the hospital for suicidal patients, and it made no sense for him to continue in the rooms of comatose patients, so they threw him in the Janus Thickey ward, the only one that held long term patients.

Like Gilderoy Lockhart.

Wanting to live was something hard to come by if he was in a ward where he couldn’t hold a conversation with anyone. The Healers tried to baby him, like they babied the other patients, so that was a no go as well. There was barely any privacy, though he was given more of that, and he could leave to the visitor’s tearoom if he wished. 

Even so. It was hell.

To make things worse, Granger seemed to be wary of him. And he was itching to know exactly why. Yes, he still had feelings for her. They seemed more genuine by the day.

He could have a loose idea of what bothered her, and he’d give up a leg to figure out for sure.

“Granger.” he called, after a particularly silent match of chess. Granger hated chess, and was terrible at it. They had nothing to talk about, so it was about the only thing to be done during her visits. Or, rather, she didn’t really want to talk to him. “If you don’t want to speak to me, why do you bother coming?”

She took a very, very deep breath.

“I… I talked to Kingsley. I know about Harry’s mother.”

Severus leaned back into his chair. That was bound to be a long talk.

“And…?”

“And… What were you thinking at the time? Why… Why be so disrespectful and dismissive of someone you supposedly love? How come you never considered that, by joining Voldemort, you supported the people who were killing, and torturing people like her?”

“People like you.”

“That, too.”

“I wasn’t thinking. What do you want me to say? It was clearly a mistake. I was too self-absorbed and had no empathy for someone I cared about.” Severus said. He’d be more worried if she didn’t want to talk to him about it. “I wanted to belong. I wanted not to feel weak. I thought, as long as I wasn’t the one doing it, then it wasn’t my problem.”

“That’s just terrible.”

“It is. And I realized it too late. Do you see why I can’t move on, even now, that I did everything in my power?”

Granger broke eye contact and spent some time in silence, just thinking. Then she turned back to him, and she looked more relaxed.

“I see it now. Look, Kingsley and I, we’ve been talking… And we would like if you tried to see a therapist.”

“A therapist.” Severus echoed.

“Yeah. See, I can’t hear those things and not be horrified. It’s just a matter that’s too sensitive for me. I’m a muggleborn, as you know.” Granger said, and looked for something in her purse. Then she placed a business card on the table. “But you deserve to be listened to by someone who won’t judge you and can offer the sensible solutions you need. You are not okay. You should be able to live yourself. Especially now that, like you said, you’ve done everything you could. Voldemort wouldn’t have been defeated without your contribution.”

Severus picked up the business card and read the name and telephone of his future therapist. He hated the idea of opening up to a stranger, except that the hate was a little less intense than what he felt for staying in the ward.

“Is this person not a muggle?”

He just felt like making things harder, for the sake of it.

“Yes. He has a sister that is a witch, though. He knows the drill. Kingsley spoke to him.”

“Do you honestly think I’ll just talk it out and wake up one day and be happy?”

“Not suddenly, of course.” Granger replied, with an eye roll, seeing right through his attempt at stubbornness. “I just think you’ll learn how to cope better with… Everything. Then you won’t try to kill yourself anymore. If you stick to it long enough, you might feel happy again. Who knows. I’d like to see you try to get there, at least.”

Severus swallowed dry and studied the business card once more. It was frayed, like Granger had been playing with it, trying to pick out the right words to get him to accept her idea.

“Would you, now?”

“Yes, I would. I care.” she said. “I might go as far as saying that I like you a tiny little bit.”

Severus raised his eyes from the card.

“Are you certain? This is a rather risky statement.”

Granger chuckled. She was still hesitant about him, no doubt; he appreciated her efforts of hiding it now that it was clear he didn’t think his past actions had any silver lining or excuses to them.

There were certain things that didn’t help him go in the right direction, however, ultimately, once he graduated from Hogwarts, he could have disappeared instead of keeping in touch with Malfoy, Avery and Mulciber. Hell, even if he hadn’t been in love with a muggleborn, he should have known it was wrong. He should have _cared_ that it was wrong.

Severus sighed, knowing it was a lost battle. He wouldn’t admit to himself, but he was moved that a lot of thought and effort was being put into making him feel better.

“I’ll give this therapist business a try. See if it helps.”

“But either I or Kingsley will have to come with you for now, though. Just to make sure.”


	14. Acknowledgment

The good news about Hermione hanging out often with Snape in a public space was that soon their supposedly torrid love affair was forgotten by the news. The bad news was that the people who knew it wasn’t true started feeling weird about it.

“Mione, I’ll be coming back tonight, okay?”

Ron barely even left her apartment, except to go to his training or to Harry’s. Hermione could see right through his attempt of trying to make things serious by making it impossible for her to be seeing someone else.

There were loads of changes of his clothes on Hermione’s closet. They were having breakfast by the barely used dinner table.

“Well, fine, but I won’t be here for the most part.” She replied.

“Why not?”

“Visit. And I’ll have to chaperone Snape to an appointment, so he won’t run away and throw himself in front of a car.”

“Appointment?”

“He’s going to see a special doctor. Just to make sure he won’t try to do anything stupid again when he leaves St. Mungos.”

“You are spending more time with him than with me, recently.” Ron observed. He was not good at hiding his emotions – his throat went up and down as it did when he was nervous, and his ears were three shades redder than his face.

“Ronald, come on. Are you jealous of Snape? Do you honestly still think that—”

“All I’m saying is that something is wrong when you prefer to spend time with _Snape_ than with me.”

“That’s not true!” Hermione said, but it felt like a lie as the words rolled off her tongue.

“Liar.”

“You’re being unreasonable. This is just until he feels better and is out of risk.”

“And when did you start caring so much about his wellbeing?”

“When he started being my friend, that’s when. I know, it’s weird, but if it were Harry, I’d be doing the same thing.”

Friend was not quite the right word. Though she could say she knew him rather well now, she didn’t share much about herself with him. Or at all. He had no clue of what was going on with her life. And, frankly, she wouldn’t know a thing about his if he hadn’t ended up in the hospital.

If they swapped positions, would he be doing the same thing? Did he actually like her or just found her attractive and was taking advantage of her support without intentions of reciprocating it?

Whatever their relationship was, it was all about him and his problems. Then again, she wouldn’t think of seeking his support as things were. He had enough to worry about.

“There’s a whole world of difference between Harry and Snape, though.”

“I’m well aware. I’m sorry. I’ll really have to accompany him to this doctor and I’ll be back late. It’s not even worth the stay. You should go to Harry’s.”

Ron was not satisfied by Hermione’s firmness, but he shrugged and mumbled a reluctantly positive answer. Despite the appearances, she was rather unsure if devoting so much time into Snape’s recovery was worth it. Kingsley said he’d go with Snape if needed be, despite being busy with… Well, the whole Ministry.

She supposed her resolve to remain at it was moreso the fact Kingsley had enough to deal with. If Hermione had time and was managing to get some results, then…

Despite her early thoughts that Snape didn’t know her at all, she had to admit he was starting to get somewhat better at reading her humor. Once Hermione went to meet with him at the entrance lobby of the hospital, she thought she had offered him a genuine smile, but he raised an eyebrow at it and when they walked out into the busy streets, he observed:

“Something still bothers you.”

“I’m just worried about something else. Nothing to do with you, really.”

Once they were inside a cab – sitting in opposite sides --, Hermione could feel Snape’s eyes on her. He was resting his chin against his hand, elbow propped up on the cab’s door, and a pensive look to his face. He was not even trying to hide the fact he was watching her.

“What?” Hermione asked. “Is there something on my face?”

“What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing I’d like to trouble you with right now. You have bigger problems.”

“Maybe. But I’d like to hear yours.”

“It’s… It’s really silly. Just something I’ve been postponing, and I haven’t got around to it.”

“And why have you been postponing it?”

Hermione returned his gaze for a moment before saying:

“I don’t want to deal with what will happen next.”

They fell into silence. Hermione didn’t want to spill all her relationships issues onto Snape, of all people, and, gladly, he seemed to get she didn’t want to go into details. Actually, the problem was not the relationship, but the fact Hermione had been hesitating to end it for months. The problem was that it shouldn’t have even started.

She figured that out upon acknowledging that, yes, even suicidal as Snape was, spending time with him was better than being with Ron. If it got to that point, surely it was already over. She might as well let him know, as soon as she saw him again.

Hermione didn’t want to think about what this meant about her relationship with Snape, though.

OoOoO

Kingsley was a sly snake. The therapist had Severus’ trial files. However unethical that was, he couldn’t even be angry. He agreed to go, but wouldn’t really say anything on his own accord.

For his own amusement, he tried very, very hard to shock the man, Dr. Atkins, by saying the most horrid things. He was getting too obvious for that to work, though. Or Dr. Atkins was just that good at reading people.

In the end, the advice Severus was left with was that he should work on forgiving himself more and trying to focus on the present, as well as few interesting techniques he could try whenever he found himself spiraling back into thinking he should be dead.  

He only needed to stick to it until he was allowed to leave St. Mungos, anyway.

“So how was it?” Granger asked, closing the book she was reading while she waited for him.

“Good.” Severus replied, walking past her and going to the office door.

She followed him and pressed:

“Good? Just good? Good how?”

The clinic was in a quiet neighborhood; at that time of the evening, they wouldn’t easily find a cab, so they would have to walk, which was unfortunate. It gave Granger a chance to pry.

The streets were beautiful, though, with the trees shedding their leaves and preparing for winter. And it had been a while since the last time Severus saw anything but the Janus Thickey ward and the hospital shop.

“Did you know Kingsley give him my files?”

“No, I didn’t know that.”

“At least I’m not feeling any worse.”

“Will you want to keep coming?”

Severus shrugged.

“I already started. I might as well.”

Granger squeezed his arm affectionately.

“I’m pleased to hear it.”

Without thinking very well about it, Severus pulled her close to a hug. He was not big on physical affection, but it just felt like the right thing to do. Too bad she was considerably shorter than him and his neck wouldn’t allow him to smell her hair.

He was aware part of his reason to try and stick to it was because he didn’t want to burden Granger anymore than he was already doing.

After that, she went extremely quiet, and wouldn’t even look at him on their way back to the hospital. Severus recognized that kind of mood, though this time it didn’t hurt. He knew she’d never reciprocate his feelings. He wanted to still have some sort of relationship with her and not overstep her boundaries, so he asked:

“Did I do something wrong?”

Granger smiled to herself.

“No. Not at all. It’s… The thing. That’s been worrying me.”

At the risk of going overboard, again, he reached out for her and squeezed her knee. She just looked at his hand for a moment, then placed her own on top of his and returned the squeeze.

Granger smirked before glancing at him with another look he recognized. At least _that_ one meant something much better than unreciprocated feelings. He scooted closer to her and kissed her, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thigh.

She returned the kiss, but wisely stopped before they were thrown out of the cab.

“We can go to my apartment.” she whispered. “It’ll have to be quick, though. You have a curfew, you know.”

Severus just nodded and returned to his spot on the opposite end of the seat. Granger gave new directions to the driver, who at least tried not to look so judgmental of what was happening. If he knew half of it…  

Once they entered the elevator, they continued from where they stopped. They were alone, and Severus was clearly feeling bold that day, so he had his hand up her skirt, grasping her inner thigh, thumb drawing circles on her clitoris over the underwear, all the while he kissed her.

Granger’s stifled moans were the sweetest music; her fingertips lightly running up and down his erection had him pre-cumming on his pants.

Then the elevator door opened on Granger’s floor.

“ _Mione_?”

Severus stepped away from her to see Ronald Weasley standing on the hallway, jaw shut so tight a few veins on his temple popped out.

Granger showed the quickest wit of the three and pressed a button to close the door, then another to return to the entrance. She rested her body against the wall of the elevator, trying to catch her breath. 

“I guess you just met my problem.”


	15. Short Fuse

“I assume the Weasley boy is not aware that we…” Severus said and let his voice die.

“It’s worse than that. We’re kind of… Living together?”

Up until that point, Severus was just surprised by the intromission, but anger quickly bubbled to the surface.

“ _What_?!”

“I’m not cheating on Ron, if that’s what you’re thinking!” Granger exclaimed.

“How is this _not_ cheating?”

“He knew I was seeing other people and wasn’t ready to commit!”

“But he thought you would, eventually, didn’t he?” Severus said.

“…I didn’t tell him otherwise, no.”

He wanted to get out of that elevator at that very moment as get as far away from Granger as possible. He would never have guessed she was capable of such a cruel thing; not that he had a care for Weasley’s feelings, but he did care that he had a part on it, and Granger hid that information from him.

“For how long?” he asked, coldly, not even wanting to look Granger in the face.

“I was not with him at all in the first time we had sex, okay? I… I’m sorry. I should’ve told you! I didn’t think—”

“Clearly, you did not think at all.”

“On a scale of one to ten, how mad are you about it?”

“Only to ten?” Severus sneered. “I don’t think that covers it. This was utterly despicable.”

The elevator arrived at the first floor then, and Severus stormed out of it, though Granger kept following his track until they were outside. It was all very quiet, which made their heated discussion stand up like a sore thumb from the overall silence of the street. There were people passing, though, and steering away from them.

“Snape, please, I—”

“I don’t want to hear it!” Severus snarled, though he did stop walking to face her.

She seemed to be on the verge of tears. That didn’t move him at all. He felt used, toyed with, made a fool of; a whole list of things he had no tolerance for. 

“I fucked up. I know I did, but you don’t get it! Ron would be so pissed at me and I’d lose both of my best friends.”

“This is no excuse!”

“What do you want me to say, then?”

“I want you to say nothing! I want you to get out of my sight, you selfish, manipulative little whore!”

For a moment, it was like the world had stopped. And, right after, the thunderous sound of a well given slap broke the silence. Severus held the cheek that was set on fire and turned to Granger, who got up to his face and whispered in a low, cold tone, that was so much like his:

“Fuck you. I’d rather be a selfish, manipulative little whore than be you.”

With that, she stepped away, turned around, and left to her building. The slap still stung, but Severus was beaten to a bloody pulp by her acidic remark. Was it always going to be like that? People throwing his past to his face whenever he said something they didn’t like? Would he never be allowed to feel angry at something?

He went to walk aimlessly on the streets. There was no one to stop him if he wanted to kill himself, and how dearly he wanted to. Just so Granger had to carry the weight of his death with her forever, have a taste of what was like to be him. Leaving a suicidal person to their own devices was a form of murder, after all.

After fifteen minutes or so of walking, though, Severus was forced to acknowledge he did improve as person. He was nowhere petty enough to carry it out; maybe he would attempt and succeed, but not that night. Not when it meant Granger would take the blame for it.

It was not her fault he wanted to die. If he were not in such a state, leaving him on the street would be entirely inconsequential.

Deep down, underneath the generous layer of rage, he also knew that he said to her something incredibly hurtful and out of line, even considering her fuck up.

 OoOoO

Hermione went back to her apartment wiping away the tears. Snape, at the end of the day, hadn’t changed a single thing, and she was a fool for having thought so. For a moment, she considered if it was wise to leave him alone to return to St. Mungos and if she shouldn’t return, try to make amends at least until he was safely watched.

Being called a whore was just too much, however, and so what if he died? He was not her responsibility. She was trying to help, but couldn’t do all the work for him. If he wanted to live, then he would get there safe. If he wanted to die, then he would do that, too. 

Back at her apartment, however, Hermione had to be ready for another round of insults.

Ron was in the bedroom, furiously making a pile of his belongings on the bed.

“So how is it banging half of the wizardry world behind my back? Really? _Snape_? Who else you are fucking that I should know about?” he yelled to her, droplets of saliva hitting her face as he spoke.

She found herself not willing to listen to it all, however. Ron was aware she was not committed to him yet, and yes, of course, she should have told him there was no way it could ever happen, and he had a right to be upset at the whole situation because she lied about Snape.

Not like that, though.

“Who I sleep with is none of your bloody business! You knew I wasn’t committed to you and moved yourself in on your own accord!”

“I would never have done that if you hadn’t lied about fucking Snape!”

“It happened once! I had no idea it would happen again, and I didn’t say anything because I knew you’d react this way. Why does it matter? You knew you aren’t the only one, why does it matter who are the people I have sex with?”

“You’re such a slut, you know that?” Ron spat. “I always knew that. I guess I didn’t want to accept it until I saw it for myself. You disgust me. How many guys passed through your bed?”

Hermione was simply fed up with being called that. She was in the wrong, and was aware of it.

It was funny, though, how the real mistake didn’t seem to matter in comparison to the fact she had a sex life to speak of and didn’t sleep only with people Ron approved. Namely, himself alone. The fact this all had happened with Snape… Was just a cherry to top the cake with.

He was swallowing back the judgement in hopes Hermione would see the light and be the perfect little girlfriend he expected her to be. Well, that wouldn’t happen. And, she knew, he’d say the same thing if she had been honest with him before this whole mess.

“You know what, Ronald? Get the fuck out of my apartment.” she said, through her teeth, and started shoving him out to the hallway. “Right now. I don’t want to see your face ever again.”

Ron yanked himself out of her grasp and went towards the front door.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure to never even breathe in your direction from now on. Slut.”

He left and slammed the door shut. Hermione marched back to her room, picked up everything that belonged to him and vanished it all. With his belongings, the rage that propelled her vanished, as well.

She let herself drop to the bed, feeling numb and stayed that way for a couple of hours. A terrible break up with Ron was bound to happen, anyway, except Hermione wasn’t planning to contribute to it. In any case, it was a relief to get that out of the way.

Another thing she was not planning was Snape’s reaction. After it was all said and done, of course she should expect something of the sort from him. He was not much of a loss, was he?

Hermione started feeling terrible over it all, though not regretful in the slightest. It just showed the true colors of the men she surrounded herself with. When she reached that conclusion, she got up for a shower, and then drank herself to sleep. 

In the following day, she had a terrible hangover and threw up in the shower. The work waiting for her at the Ministry didn’t care if she was feeling the worst she had ever felt, though. She gathered the strength to get dressed, eat some food and put some make up to try and make her face look less deadly.

The makeup didn’t help at all, because her face dropped when she saw what the headlines of the day were.

DID THE AFFAIR COME TO AN END? HERMIONE GRANGER AND SEVERUS SNAPE HAVE HEATED DEBATE ON THE STREET.

The picture?

Somehow, the moment she slapped him got caught in film, and now was plastered over the newspaper across the entire wizardry community of England. Apparently, someone was upping the technology on taking magical pictures. She didn’t see a flash, nor saw anyone with a big, antique camera.

Seeing the picture, Hermione was reminded of something she managed to completely forget. Did he or did he not make it to St. Mungos that evening? The only thing she was sure of was that, if he was dead, his body was not found. Yet.

Getting in touch with him was not an option. Hermione could get his anger, and understood if he never wanted to see her face again. Frankly, she didn’t want to see his, either. Whore was just… She didn’t even want to think about it, lest the anger would come right back.

After some consideration, she decided to write Mrs. Blackstone a note. The old nurse would know if Snape came back to St. Mungos the night before.

Only then she went to the Ministry, to face the whispers, curious looks and pile of work head on.


	16. For Better or For Worse

Hermione could guess what the topic of conversation would be when she read the note Kingsley sent her, asking her to go to his office as soon as possible, a couple of hours after the start of her shift.

Indeed, when she got there and sat down, Kingsley had a Daily Prophet on his hands.

“Care to explain what is happening?” he asked, folding the newspaper up and setting it aside. “Is this true? The picture is pretty damning.”

“No.” Hermione blurted out. “I-I mean, yes, I did slap him.”

“Did he say or do something out of line? You’ve done me a great favor when you decided to help him out, though I’m aware he can be quite the charmer, at times. You don’t _have_ to help him if he’s being a dick to you. You owe him nothing.”

“It’s complicated. He did say something terrible, though it was not out of nowhere, and I did say some things back. It was a bit of a back and forth, really.”

Kingsley leaned back on his chair with a sigh, crossing his fingers on top of his stomach. He wanted to pry. Given Hermione’s evasive answer, he could tell she did not want to say. What would he think if he knew they were yelling and slapping each other on the streets like some sort of dysfunctional couple?

Besides the fact they slept together at all. And Hermione was sort of cheating on Ron.

“I see. Well, then, I assume I’ll have to start making sure he goes to his sessions every day. And get him to have his interpersonal issues checked out.”

Hermione swallowed hard. It couldn’t be easy for Kingsley and now she made it worse by making herself unavailable.

“Why do you want to help him so much?”

“Who else will, if I don’t?” he replied, his voice weighing heavy with plain exhaustion. “He has nobody looking out for him. Though I don’t do this out of pity. Not anymore, at least. I’m talking about one of the most valuable members of the Department of Mysteries. I will say that there are compelling reasons why he doesn’t have friends other than myself.”

“Yeah.” Hermione agreed. “I can see why, too.”

“At any rate, that’s all I really wanted to tell you. I’ll take him to the therapist from now on.”

Kingsley looked five years older as he said that. The role of being Snape’s sole support was weighing him down, though he would never give up just to make things easier for himself. He was that sort of a good person. Despite not being perfect, he tried his best to do the right thing. Hermione admired his strength and commitment to do good things.

And she knew what the good, right thing to do would be. Bite the bullet, try to make amends with Snape, if only the bare minimum so he’d accept her help again. For Kingsley, if anything. He had a family, a stressful job. Doing all of that and being Snape’s chaperone every day was way too much for just one person to handle.

The daily sessions would not last forever, of course, and once Snape was stable enough to not need any supervision, then he could go by himself.

“Don’t worry. I can still accompany him.” Hermione said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, of course. I… I’ve heard worse from him before. And I know he’s a piece of work, I’ve always known that.”

“I know there’s something you’re not telling me about this whole incident.” Kingsley said. In a sense, he was too much like her family. He could see right through her bullshit. “But if you feel well enough to keep doing him company for the sessions, then… I’ll trust your judgement. You can stop at any time, though. Him being suicidal is no excuse for treating you poorly.”

“I’m aware.”

“I will have a serious conversation with him about this. If you didn’t tell me what happened, I doubt he will, however I need to make some things clear for him. This is unacceptable. I’m glad you didn’t take it quietly.”

That observation made Hermione smile. She supposed she’d never feel like she had a family again, though Kingsley was something very, very close to it.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” she replied. “And, don’t worry, we’ll work it out.”

 The certainty left her once she walked out of Kingsley’s office.

For one, however aware of how unnecessary her words to Snape the night before had been, she did not want to apologize. And he wouldn’t, either. The real question was either he’d accept a truce if only not to overload Kingsley with his problems.

Hermione prayed that he would see reason.

When Snape did ever…?

OoOoO

“Mr. Snape, Miss Granger is waiting for you in the entrance lobby.” said the Healer. “Sorry for the intromission, but is everything alright between the two of you?”

Severus’ lips curled up in a sneer. It was just the perfect ending for an equally perfect day. Besides the fact he couldn’t sleep an ounce – the light sleeping potions he was given had no effects in him whatsoever – the Healers of the ward were being especially overbearing and maternal. They all have read what transpired between him and Granger.

Some of it, at least. Rita Skeeter’s blown out of proportion tell tales were far too close from the actual truth.

“It’s all fine, thank you for your concern.” Severus replied in a tone that made very clear it was anything but, and he was not grateful at all for the nosiness.

He was waiting for Kingsley to show up and try to remedy the situation, so he wouldn’t have to leave the hospital, every day, by himself. The fact Granger showed up meant there was nothing to be dealt with, from Kingsley’s point of view.

Which was a relief. Severus was aware of the moral dubiousness of his actions towards Granger. Regardless of how it happened, he was still a former teacher of hers, still much older and supposedly mature enough to realize it was just not a good idea, while she had been an adult for three short years.

Having a conversation about it meant Severus would have to lie or omit, with no way of knowing what Granger’s fabricated version of the facts would be.

And, by the way things were going, soon their fling would be a non-issue. Once Severus was discharged of the hospital, he’d have no reason to see Granger ever again. For the time being, though, he had to.

She was sitting by the lobby, immersed in some muggle fiction book, while the chaos of the entrance danced around her. For a moment, Severus almost forgot what she was capable of. Almost. He would never be able to forget how casually she told him she was living with someone.

He walked past her and said nothing; she scrambled to put away her book and follow him outside, and into a cab.

They sat in opposite ends of the seat, a thick wall of ice between them, both too hurt by the other’s actions to apologize.

When Severus made it to the office, he was not very pleased to know even Dr. Atkins heard about the events of the night before.

For half an hour, the session went fine. Dr. Atkins went on to explain about the prognosis of post-stress traumatic disorder and how it matched the symptoms Severus was having, including the suicidal urges, which, apparently, could not be tied only to the fact he was unable to forgive himself for his past.

That was something to be worked on, the muggle man said, but there were deeper layers to the issue. He went on about some muggle medication Severus could try.

Then, he put his notes aside, crossed his legs, and asked:

“Is there anything you wish to tell me about a recent falling out with a friend?”

“I assume you have read the Daily Prophet.”

“I might have.” Was his reply. “The picture was very telling, regardless of how untrue the article might be. I do see she came with you today.”

Severus rolled his eyes minutely. The knee jerk response would be “It’s none of your business”, however he hoped the fact he returned to the hospital even with the reasons and the means to kill himself would get him an earlier discharge.

The Janus Thickey ward was hell on Earth. The lights were never off, the patients were disruptive even at night, Lockhart and the Longbottoms were there. Severus said nothing about the Longbottoms, as he was hoping someone would notice that facing two victims of his youth misconducts wouldn’t help, but no one did, so…

“Yes, we did have a misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding. How so?”

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I was left alone to return to the hospital and I’m still here. I’m quite certain this means I’m trustworthy enough to be discharged.”

“Hold it. You were left alone?”

“Yes.”

“Care to explain what your motivations were to return safely? What has changed?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me. We went over the list of reasons why you wanted to commit suicide just yesterday. It’s important to know what would convince you not to, even if you had the chance to do it.”

Severus did not want to talk about it, so he said nothing for a good minute. Dr. Atkins spoke very seriously:

“The sooner I figure out how I can keep you safely alive without need of constant vigilance, the better. I understand you do not want to be here, but you will be at the hospital, and here, for much longer, if you refuse to share.”

Severus was not dense. He knew as much; but wasn’t taking in consideration he would need to share _everything_.

“I returned to the hospital because I did not want Granger to take the blame for my suicide, since she was the one who left me alone.” Severus said, monochord.

“What is your relationship with Granger? Hermione Granger, isn’t it? Her whole name?”

“Yes, that is her name.”

“And what is your relationship with her?”

Dr. Atkins was relentless in his interrogation. Severus wanted to leave the session but forced himself to stay put and say the one thing he thought he’d rather die than say it out loud. Even if they were both hurt and angry at each other, it remained true.

Was it not the reason why he was still alive, in the end? The reason why he returned to the hospital the night before, even with all the motivation in the world to finally do it?

“We don’t have a relationship. We are not even friends.” Severus said. “However…”

“However…” Dr. Atkins prompted, egging him on.

“I’m in love with her.”

Dr. Atkins pulled his notepad right back up.

“Interesting. Tell me all about it.”


	17. Reparations

By the end of the session, Severus felt almost physically ill.

It was not simply the act of spelling out something about him that he never thought he’d tell anyone, but having that feeling surgically dissected and questioned on all angles by a third party. Dr. Atkins was not very subtle on his interest for that development, what it could possibly mean, and he was sparing _no_ train of thought.

At first, he played the most obvious routes, questioning if Severus felt himself drawn to Granger while she was still a child and a student of his, and other such questions. The answer was no, he was not a pedophile, if that was the question. He had been an unethical teacher, to understate things, but there was a line in the sand, and that line was sexually harassing his students. 

In fact, Granger still felt uncomfortably young, at times.

Then Dr. Atkins reached a train of thought Severus himself never fully recognized.

“You know what I am finding curious about this? Hermione was the age Lily was she died. They are both Gryffindors, for all that is worth. They are both muggleborns. To make matters even stranger, she is best friend with Lily’s son. Don’t you think you might just be trying to find yourself a new Lily? Replay the story again, perhaps a continuation from where it ended?”

During the mission, Severus did perhaps wonder if his infatuation towards Granger was just a matter of replacing Lily with someone else, though he did not think of it as such a blunt, direct substitution. He went silent, fiddled with the idea for a moment and said:

“I wish it were true. Would be easier to talk myself out of it.”

Dr. Atkins nodded and wrote down on his notes for a split of second. Denial wasn’t a very long word to write.

“You believe it’s genuine, then. What makes you feel that way?”

“I fell in love with Lily because she was nothing like me. She was good, kind, played by the books. Sometimes, to a fault.”

“And Hermione?”

“She is selfish, a liar, inconsiderate of other people’s feelings and reckless. She set my cloak on fire during her first year, ran away from me after we had sex for the first time, threw my past to my face over and over and over, cheated on her boyfriend with me, and left me alone to return to St. Mungos even though there was a chance I would not return at all.”

“You fell in love with her because she is a bit like you, then.” Dr. Atkins quipped. “I suppose you enjoy not being the only one who, excuse my language, fucks up.”

“I’m not saying she is not a good person. Even though perhaps I have just painted a terrible picture of her. But, trust me, if she were anything at all like Lily, besides the obvious and superficial similarities, we would not be having this conversation.”

Severus hated how confessing it all to someone else gave that issue another layer of depth. To have feelings over fond memories of the past and keep them to oneself was like having a scar; being in love with someone he was in touch with, telling others about it, seemed like carrying an open, bleeding wound, and letting someone poke at it.

The fact he said it made it feel more real. Existence was a matter of perception, and now someone else other than Severus himself was around to perceive his feelings. Which was why, when he left the session, he was not keen on spending twenty-five minutes in a constricted space with Granger.

Obviously, she had no way of knowing what was discussed in the session. Problem was, Severus could no longer pretend it was all a fantasy of his. It was true. He was in love. People knew about it, now.

“Merlin.” Hermione said, frowning, forgetting their mutual vow of silence. “You look like absolute shit.”

And when did he start thinking of her as Hermione?

“That makes perfect sense, considering I feel just like it.”

“Listen, I’ve been thinking. I really should haven’t left you alone yesterday. You shouldn’t have called me a selfish, manipulative little whore. You shouldn’t have, but… You could have not returned. It’s not really a back and forth if you called me something insulting, and I left you to die in return.” Hermione said once they were out on the street.

“This was not the worst part, if you must know.”

“Oh?”

“Do you plan on reminding me of my past every single time?” Severus asked. “Do you think you’re making me such a huge favor that I’m not allowed to feel angry at you for anything at all? I deserved the slap and being told to go fuck myself. I cannot, unfortunately, undo anymore of what I have already undone when it comes to the lives I have ended. I’m not sure it is productive for you to stick around if you will keep reminding me, as if I don’t do it enough by myself.”

He was not angry, not anymore. He was hurt because Hermione could not see the weight her words carried, but he was willing to be patient. The fact he was being patient was evidence enough of just how serious his feelings were.

Hermione was quiet for a while, then she said:

“Let’s make a deal.”

“What deal?”

“Let’s just not insult each other at all and work things out with peaceful discussion like mature people. Mostly, if you feel like insulting me, never call me a whore. There are a bunch of actual things I can be called if you’d like to do hurt me. The number of people I slept with is irrelevant, and if you feel like it has any bearing in my worth as a person, then you might as well not direct a word to me ever again.”

“I’m sorry.”

Hermione regarded him for a moment. She stopped walking and pulled him for a hug, wrapping her arms tight around his neck.

“I wouldn’t have never forgiven myself if something happened.” she said.

“That is precisely the reason why I returned to St. Mungos.” he replied, perhaps saying too much, hesitantly holding her waist. “Not even _I_ am that petty.”

He thought she was going to let go of the embrace, but she just distanced herself a little to kiss him on the lips.

OoOoO

Hermione could only describe her mental state as a very hot mess, as Snape held her face and slipped his tongue inside her mouth, and, worse, she reciprocated it.

In the middle of the street. They were bound to be photographed again, and that didn’t seem to matter to either of them.

“Should we continue from where we were interrupted?” he asked her. “I doubt Weasley will be there this time.”

Hermione looked up to him and paused. It was the same face of always, except with wrinkles, shorter hair with grey strands to them; except it now evoked a sense of familiarity instead of fear, apprehension and distrust.

It was a bizarre change, one Hermione was still trying hard to accept.

At the time, though, she was feeling just too horny to be able to give it enough thought. There was no space between their bodies, except for the layers of clothes – winter was fast approaching – and Snape’s hand was gently caressing her lower back. To think of the things it could do sent a shiver up Hermione’s spine, starting from between her legs.

“Fuck taking a cab.” she said, and reached for her wand in her pocket.

Soon they’d be back at the elevator. Snape wasn’t being too outrageous that time, except, maybe, for the whole hugging her from behind, throwing her hair to the side and lightly kissing her neck thing. No one showed up to interrupt it, though.

Hermione fumbled around the keys as he started undoing the buttons of her coat, pressing his body against hers.

“ _Jesus_.” she said under her breath, while she still couldn’t get the damn door open.

“I had no idea you were a Christian.” Snape observed in a mutter against the curve of her neck, and he could have commented on the weather or quidditch matches results, and Hermione would have found it erotic.

His voice was always pleasant to hear, but there was something extra to the especially low, silky tone he used when he was aroused.

“My parents are. It’s a manner of speech. And blasphemy, I think.” Hermione babbled and got the door opened, at last.

Once inside, he took off her coat and put it on the hangers by the door before pressing her against the entrance hallway wall, kissing her on the mouth until she was out of breath. Hermione was just too overwhelmed by everything to care for taking off his clothes, so he removed his coat by himself and threw it aside before going for her neck again.

Snape then proceeded to undo her jeans and slip a hand inside her underwear, to feel her up with his fingertips. She was very, very wet already. Wasn’t that much of a surprise. Now that they were down for it, Hermione realized she had anticipated it for a while, even if she wouldn’t admit to herself.

Usually, she’d be more of an active participant, but she could tell Snape liked to take care of things, and she didn’t mind just following along, so she let him flip her over, and lower her pants plus underwear to the middle of her thighs.

Then he knelt.

Hermione bit her lower lip when she felt the warmth of his kiss against her other set of lips, his fingertips digging into her thighs. Took him a few moments to figure what made her squirm the most, though once he got around it, he had Hermione panting and whimpering, face against the wall, and didn’t stop until she came against his mouth.

He returned the panties and jeans to their rightful places once he was back on his feet. Hermione turned on her heels and pulled him close, kissing his mouth and running her hands inside his sweater, then removing it.

The sight of the Dark Mark didn’t shock her then, neither the full extent of the scarring on his neck, that went down almost reaching his chest. No hair grew on the red, scarred skin. Hermione traced the scars with her fingertips, curious about the texture.

He was intently watching her reaction. They were sober. The lights were on. This was not just a hook up.

“Must have hurt.” she commented, casually, as her hand went down his chest, stomach, and the unaddressed tent on his pants.

“I’ve felt worse.” he replied. “You do know I have no idea where is the bedroom, I hope.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Hermione almost forgot he never been to her place. Which was weirder than the fact he was, indeed, at her apartment, with an erection, hoping to get her naked. Or the fact she would like that, too.

She took his hand as she leaded him into her bedroom. Once they were there, he laid her down on the bed and took everything else left off her, in between kisses in various locations. Then he kicked off his own shoes and pants.

“Wait.” Hermione exclaimed and reached for the bedside drawer.

Condom. Very important.

There was no room for much creativity and variation, considering Snape had a curfew and it wouldn’t be so much later. Once he was all set, he settled himself between her legs and slipped inside her, thrusting with a bit of urgency, hands and mouth all over Hermione, who just relaxed into his embrace and let him do the work.

She liked to hear him trying to stifle back the moans when he was close to coming.

Then he did come and rolled over to the side, hair sticking to his temples due to sweat. He turned to her and stroked her cheek.

“Hopefully you won’t run away this time.” he said, sounding tired, then kissed her forehead and cuddled to her.

Hermione looked straight up to the ceiling, eyes open wide as she drew circles on his back. She wouldn’t run away, but there was a slight problem with it.

She would, very soon, have feelings for him.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've finished writing all the chapters! 5 more to publish before it's over...


	18. Bad Habits Die Hard

Hermione did not run away, but sure went into hiding in her bathroom. Severus decided to get dressed because something felt _wrong_ about being entirely naked in her apartment; maybe it wouldn’t feel as bad if the place just didn’t ooze her presence with the impressive quantity of books, the spotlessness and neatness of it all.

Plus, the light pink floral wallpaper on the walls. It was very cute.

The more Severus got to know Hermione, the more he liked her. Which was, in fact, a terrible problem, because he held on to unrequited feelings for decades. What about unrequited feelings for a person he had a lot in common with?

He should have kept his distance. There was a whole world of difference between being in love with someone one knew it would never work out and being in love with someone who one could see… Something happening. It was the difference between his feelings for Lily, and even his feelings for Hermione at first, and his feelings as he read over the titles of the books she had on her living room shelves.

Maybe he should do like she did and disappear. That couldn’t happen anything soon, though. He was not even close of being discharged.

“Oh, you’re here.” said Hermione, softly, leaning against the door frame of the room. “I doubt there’s anything of your interest.”

Severus put his hand in his pockets.

“Are you sure you were not calculating the risk of the fall of your bathroom window this whole time you were there?”

Hermione laughed at the question, but guiltily bit her lower lip.

“Okay, I freaked out a little. Again. In my defense, I was mostly trying to avoid urinary infections.”

“Is there anything I’m doing that is making you uncomfortable?”

“No. Not at all. It’s just… This is not supposed to happen. At the very least, people were not supposed to know this is happening. At this point, I don’t care, everyone knows, but… I’m hyperventilating a little bit at the thought of having to explain it to Kingsley.”

“I’m not feeling too well about this, either. Do you think I want to be having sex with a former student that I saw grow up?” Severus said, then he added, a little smoother: “I mean, I do want to, however it’s not a desire of mine I’m unconflicted about.”

“I get it. I get you. That’s what’s freaking me out! Doesn’t it freak you out?”

“Why did you think I ignored your apology letter? If I had a choice, I wouldn’t see you ever again. It would be much easier for me that way.”

“Maybe we should just stop.”

“Stop having sex whenever we are within five miles of each other?”

“Yeah.”

It would be that much easier, wouldn’t it? Ignorance is bliss, so went the saying. Maybe in a parallel universe where he wasn’t a former Death Eater and twice Hermione’s age, it would have lasted some. In the universe he was living in, though, it was just... Not supposed to happen. 

Which was fine. He never really thought he was going to ever be with someone. It was an almost soothing thought; he was more used with things not ending well. In that life of his, nothing was meant to work out.

 “Alright. That’s a fair proposal. It’s no good if any of us feel bad about it.”

Hermione nodded. Probably she had been feeling just terrible over their thing because of his past. Or his present. Or his entire existence.

“We can still hang out after you’re discharged, though. Platonically, of course. I… I kind of came around considering you a friend of mine, so… I would like to.”

She meant it.

Severus wanted to say no to that, to honor his plans of disappearing, but… He couldn’t do it. Not when the proposal was that genuine. She probably had no friends left after they got caught, with his hand up her skirt.

“Let’s do wine instead of firewhiskey when that happens. Just to be safe.”

Hermione smiled at the observation.

“Nice thinking. Also, good thing you’re dressed, we should be heading out in about five minutes if we don’t want to miss your curfew.”

“Did anyone tell you what happens if we miss it?”

“I think you have a sleep schedule to help with your insomnia, so it will screw that up. I don’t know. I was not really told. You can sit or get a book while I finish getting dressed.”

He did sit down. He also observed the computer at a corner. Funny. Why would a witch have that? Then again, she did seem to be in tune with muggle technology, given by her suggestion of using cellphones in a mission.

Sure, Severus knew what one was and figured out quick how to send a text, but he wouldn’t go out of his way to get one; or even know how to do it.

And the condoms. Diseases were a problem, and birth control potions were expensive – there was a reason why the Weasleys had multiple heirs and the Malfoys only had one. Again, Severus wouldn’t think of using them on his own, but… It was a _very_ good idea.

Once they were out of the apartment and inside the elevator, he couldn’t hold his curiosity back – and didn’t see the point of doing that, now that it was stablished they would be friends.

“Why do you have a computer?”

“Oh. That? It’s to get in touch with my parents. They’re in Australia and, as you know, they’re muggle. It’s the fastest way to talk to them.”

“Australia. An odd choice.”

“It was the safest for them at the time.”

The elevator reached the ground level and Hermione took the lead out of it, into the street.

“The safest?” Severus inquired.

“I obliviated them and put a fake memory charm over it, just to be sure they wouldn’t remember they had a daughter. I didn’t want the Death Eaters going after them and torturing them to get information. Problem is… It has been _hard_ to undo what I did.” Hermione explained. “They remember me and some of their actual past. Not enough, though. Things have been awkward ever since I tracked them down.”

She was getting upset, Severus could tell, so he asked no further.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s… It’s fine. I’m sure they would have ended up dead if I hadn’t done this, so…”

He wished it would be wise to reach out and pull her close. They remained in silence until they reached St. Mungos a couple of minutes after – since Hermione trusted he wouldn’t attempt to kill himself in the middle of an apparition.

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek once they did arrive.

“Have a good night of sleep.” she said, before leaving. “Or at least get something close to it.”

“You too.” Severus replied before going in.

OoOoO

Somehow, the resolution of the conflict brought no relief whatsoever.

Hermione thought she’d be relieved. She thought they would have another explosive discussion and wouldn’t be on speaking terms. For the second time in a row. But, apparently, Snape could work things out without exploding.

Every single time she realized he was not bad at all made her feel worse.

If it had been an actual one-time thing, in several years, it would be just an adventurous, crazy youth story to tell others – she didn’t think she wanted children, by the way. Well, there was that one time she got hammered on a work mission and slept with a former teacher who made her life hell, because why not?

If only it was just that. Even from the beginning, it was something different. If she had not liked him, she wouldn’t have done that, because then he’d be just as unappealing as he always had been to her. Even moreso, perhaps.

The next day, there would be a picture of them kissing in the newspapers. Navigating conversations where she would have to explain that, yes, they had a thing, but it was over, was better than dealing with the possibly of…

Of what? Being in a relationship with him? That was ridiculous.

Somehow, he didn’t seem like the type to be in a relationship with anyone, while also giving off the impression that if he ever fell in love, it would be intense, selfish and possessive.

She didn’t want to go from one relationship where she feel trapped, to another where the feeling was the same, because she decided to get involved with someone who knowingly had many issues.

Hermione never saw him being intensely emotional unless he was angry at something. She could only imagine all of that would channel into possessiveness and other terrible things of the sorts.

Then again, he was trying his best not to be like that. Dealing with him was not difficult; he calmed down relatively easy after waking up from his suicide attempt and accepted every idea Hermione and Kingsley threw at him. It couldn’t be fun for him to attend therapy or stay at St. Mungos. If he resisted enough, they would let him go home, because, really, he shouldn’t even be there.

Maybe Hermione just wanted to think the worse of him and try to make the decision of not having sex with him anymore feel better than it did. Because it was the best course of action. Well, not the best, and not even the most comfortable.

Just the easiest. She wouldn’t have to come to terms with his past, for one. Or come to terms with the age difference or figure out what the hell she wanted to do with her life as to keep a serious relationship with him.

Hermione’s real fear was that, from what she could see, it could work. It could actually work, despite everything. And if that scared her, then maybe it wasn’t right, like Snape himself said.

She decided to get out of bed and just put away the covers and the sheets to launder them. Perhaps not getting a whiff of his cologne every time she tossed on her spot would help on settling the discussion.

It didn’t, really.


	19. Change of Plans

“So...” Kingsley said, sitting across Severus on the table. “I think there is something you need to tell me.”

The tea room was empty at that time of the afternoon. Thankfully. That would be a thorny conversation to have.

Severus crossed his arms in front of his chest, feeling rather like a teenager that got caught doing something out of line. The ten years of difference between him and Kingsley never seemed to matter, except at that moment.

“It’s over.” he said. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Kingsley rubbed his entire face, leaned back on his chair and entwined his fingers on top of his stomach.

“I feel like this is happening too fast for me to process. Yesterday, you were kissing Hermione on the streets, the day before that, she slapped you across the face, and now it’s all over? When did this even _begin_? Of course, I figured out something was going on. The article said you two were arguing in front of her building. What would do in her building besides… Well. You know.”

“A while ago.”

“Just how long is that while?”

“A week.” Severus lied. “No, I have not been grooming her since Hogwarts, if that’s your concern. Regardless, like I said, it’s over. It was a slip up on my part, nothing else.”

“ _A_ slip up? There were two, in my point of view. What did you tell her that made her slap you?”

“Something insulting, of course. Not unforgivably insulting, this time, as I’m sure the Daily Prophet let you know today. As it happened, she was cheating on the Weasley boy with me. I was unaware of it, and I blew up upon finding it out.”

“Oh.”

Severus smirked at Kingsley’s shock and let the news sink in.

“I’m at a loss for words.” he said, after a while. “This was not what I was expecting to hear when I came here.”

“I’m surprised I’m not the only one screwing up myself. Getting involved with her was a mistake on my part, for sure. It was not even my idea, if you must know. Hermione is full of surprises.”

“Well, at least the French Minister has enough reason to believe the stories Rita Skeeter told were true.” Kingsley said. “I don’t want to meddle on your intimate affairs, but I needed to make sure—”

“That I wasn’t being a creepy lecherous old man. Sure. That is a valid concern. I would be concerned myself if I were you.” Severus said, aware that not a small part of Kingsley’s worry over Hermione’s well being was because he had seen the memories. They did not speak highly of him when it came to this treatment of women he desired. “But I have no desire to bring her any harm or pressure her into anything. I’m aware it’s a questionable choice of action. She is, too. That is why it’s over.”

Kingsley was contemplative for a moment.

“What about Lily?”

“What of her?”

“Hermione told me you can no longer cast a Patronus. What happened?”

“Eventually I would have to stop pining over a dead woman. Mourning a lost love forever might seem romantic, but it’s quite pointless after over two decades of the loss.”

Mentioning Lily as simply a dead woman felt cold even for Severus. He didn’t enjoy talking about her in such a manner, however he needed to get his point across to Kingsley: she was gone, dead, rotting seven feet underground. He was still alive, and life moved on either he wanted it to or not.  

“And what of Hermione, who is very much alive?”

“I consider her a friend.” Severus replied. “We are in good terms. Our fling was meaningless.”

That, too, was incorrect to say. Kingsley, unfortunately, caught right upon that.

“You’re not fooling me. It’s not my desire to pry, though, like I said. And I can’t deny she had a positive influence on you. I didn’t think I’d be able to persuade you into doing therapy.”

“You would have, if you tried. I don’t want to waste anyone’s time and effort, yours and hers. I am trying my best to overcome this… Issue.” Severus said. “And I want to leave this hospital more than I want to kill myself.”

“Is it that bad?”

“ _Bad_ wouldn’t begin to cover half of it. I should remind you the Longbottoms are there. I don’t feel good about myself upon seeing them every day.”

“If you’d like, there is a spare bedroom in my home.” Kingsley offered.

“You know that is impossible. Too many questions would be asked, and do you truly want a suicidal person around your children and wife? I can’t promise I won’t attempt again. I don’t want to risk exposing them to such a traumatic event. The only place I intend to leave St. Mungos for is my own house.”

He always had great appreciation for his house, even before having to forcefully stay away. He spent a lot of time shaping it to be just like he desired – there was plenty of time on his hands during his recovery from his first near death. 

“You raise valid points. I wish I could do more.”

“There is no need for more. I’ll recover with what I have.”

Though it would take much longer than if he was somewhere made to the purpose of stabilizing suicidal patients, or even anywhere where he didn’t need to look his victims in the face. Some things just could not be undone. If there was anything he could do, no matter how painful, he would try.

Which was his approach towards recovery.  

He wanted to discuss his discharge with Dr. Atkins, though the man already let clear Severus shouldn’t be unsupervised until an appointment with a psychiatrist and being prescribed muggle medicine. And after that, the side effects needed to be observed. Somehow, one of the possible side effects was increased risk for suicide.

But Dr. Atkins didn’t think it would ever be safe if his disorder, whatever it was, went by unaddressed. Severus was neck deep in a crisis and therapy would only go so far in an acceptable time frame.

So… He would have to wait around for it to blow over. It could take a while.

OoOoO

“Kingsley came here for a chat.” commented Snape, with his hands in the pockets of his coat, as he and Hermione walked on the streets nearby St. Mungos, looking for an empty alley to apparate.

“I found it weird he didn’t try to get in touch with me today. What did you say?”

“I said we had a fling and it was over. I wasn’t honest about when it started, though. Try to match my story in case he ever asks you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. How are you feeling today?”

“Tremendous.”

Everything about his overall disposition said the situation was quite the contrary, though. Hermione felt guilty about suggesting that he stayed in St. Mungos.

“The ward is not any good, is it? Did the therapist say anything about when you can be discharged?”

“Well, being in the ward kept me alive so far. I’ve asked about going home, and I need to stay somewhere safe until I get a clearer diagnosis. He fears I have post traumatic stress disorder from my years as a double agent; and there are a few muggle medicines he wants me try. Hopefully they’ll help me stay afloat for the time being.”

“And are you going to take them?”

“There is nothing else I can do. If there was any potion with a similar effect, I would have brewed it myself a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry. Putting you in the Janus Thickey ward was my idea.” Hermione said.

Snape nodded at the information and remained in silence for a while. They kept walking, not really looking for places to apparate anymore.

“Like I said, it’s been keeping me alive. I don’t want to complain about it to you. There is no ideal course of action in this situation.”

“You can complain if you want to, though. I’ve always known it was not the best of the plans to put you in there. There is no way the Healers could clear the ward of ways for you to kill yourself, even if you don’t have a wand, but I feared if you went home, alone, you’d try again and not make the same mistake.”

“You were right.” Snape said in a murmur. “I didn’t take in account the resistance I built up for sleeping potions, that I have been making use of for longer than you’ve been alive. I wouldn’t ignore that consideration a second time.”

“And now?”

“I’m not sure how I’d feel. I want to leave this bloody hospital, though it is unclear how I’d handle being on my own again, in a house full of potion ingredients, sharp knives and lethal articles of the sorts.”

An idea popped out on Hermione’s head, and she blurted it out before she could stop herself:

“And what if you had company?”

 Snape came to a halt and turned to her – his neck wouldn’t let him just turn his head. It was hard to tell what he felt about the question, though Hermione could spot a solid amount of surprise.

“I don’t think you really mean that question.” he said. “This is not a good idea, Hermione.”

The usage of her first name made her pause.

She would have kept the idea to herself if she had given it any thought before it made its way out through her mouth, but… It was already out in the world. And if not for their history, it would be the best arrangement possible for Snape’s sake.

Or should she start to think of him as Severus?

Regardless of which name she should mention him by, they were friends, and he was in need.

“And _what_ idea is a good idea in this situation?” Hermione said. “Staying in Janus Thickey is making you miserable. You might get much worse and actually end your own life if you stay alone. You’re doing your best to get better and not once I’ve felt that you’re burdening me with your problems, so, for me, it would be just a vacation on the countryside. You do have a spare bedroom, I assume.”

The response was a heavy sigh.

“I have a guest bedroom, for some reason.” he replied. “I wish I could accept your help, though I still don’t think it’s wise.”

His relief at the idea of leaving St. Mungos in the immediate future was palpable. However unwise it was, Hermione became certain that she would like to at least give it an earnest try.

They already agreed it was best to keep their hands off each other, anyway. She wasn’t so certain about that, though _he_ didn’t need to know any of her concerns.

“Think about it. Talk to Dr. Atkins. It doesn’t have to happen right now. I’m sure Kingsley will want to know of it, too and a few things would have to be thought over. Should you have your wand back? What about going back to work? And what of the sleeping potions, should you get them from the hospital or go back to brewing them yourself?”

A pause.

“Why are you putting in so much effort?”

“I’d rather fuss over _your_ mental state than over mine, that’s why.”

Or just maybe she was playing with fire and setting herself up to do something stupid, again.


	20. Details

“You seem to be feeling better today.”

Severus was getting too transparent for his own good. He got too rusty at the art of concealing his true thoughts from others, after such a long while of not needing to do it constantly. The idea of going back to his house was very nice; communicating to Dr. Atkins the only person available to keep him from harming himself was the very person he found himself enamored with was not very much so.

Out of all people, Dr. Atkins would know it was not a wise course of action. Still, staying in St. Mungos was driving Severus mad. And being in Hermione’s company a bit more wouldn’t be so bad.

“We’ve discussed this. I’m not here to judge you and I’ve been reading the Daily Prophet.” The doctor said after some silence. “It seems I get to know more from there than hearing from you. What happened between you and Hermione since last session?”

“We… Figured ourselves out.” Severus said, each word measured with great caution. “And we decided it was best not to get physically involved.”

“Doesn’t that upset you?”

He would give up an arm for the opportunity of getting _physically involved_ again, but…  

 “It does, obviously. I wish she didn’t feel uncomfortable, however she does, and there is nothing in my power I can do to change that, except leaving her alone. I asked.”

“I saw she still came with you today. I assume the friendship survived.”

“It did.”

“And…? What are you so ecstatic about today?” Dr. Atkins suggested with a heavy dose of irony to his tone.

“She gave an idea.”

“Which idea?”

Severus took a deep breath. It was going to sound terrible no matter the words he chose, considering what has been discussed so far.

“She wondered if it would be safe for me to return to my house, if I had someone to keep me company there.”

The doctor raised a brow, and took a quick note. Severus didn’t want to know what it said.

“And that was _her_ idea?”

“Yes.”

“An interesting plan. It’s even more interesting considering whose idea it was.” Dr. Atkins said. “That’s a rather heavy duty for a twenty years old woman, don’t you think, Severus?”

“She is not the only reason why I’m invested in recovering.” Severus retorted. “That would be asinine. I wouldn’t burden Hermione in such a way. She does not deserve it. I… Simply wish to leave the hospital as soon as possible. Staying there is driving me insane.”

“You do understand that once you start your medication, it’s possible your suicidal urges will come back in full swing.”

“I don’t see the point of taking a medicine whose possible side effect is the very same thing I’ve been trying to avoid.”

“Antidepressants will improve your situation in a few ways that might just give you the push you need to finish the job, so to speak. As I’m sure you know, profound despair is not the only ingredient you need for active suicide risk.” Dr. Atkins said. “Which is why I wanted you in the hospital until at least a week after starting medication.”

“If so, I might just kill myself there.”

Dr. Atkins sighed and put his notes aside.

“This is why I’m considering the idea. I feel that it will be safer for you to be at home, what I’m not certain of is either a twenty years old woman, who has been through the same war you have, mind you, will be able to handle it if something goes wrong. Do you even want her to have this kind of responsibility?”

“She’s not the only one who is assisting me.” Severus pointed out. “Kingsley will help if such a thing occurs. You’ve spoken to him. He gave you my files. She won’t need to do anything but be in the same place as I am and call him if things go badly. Trust me, I don’t want her to do anything else but keep me company. Even that I already think it’s too much.”

What a weird feeling it was to have not one person to count on, but two of them. Truth was, if it wasn’t for Kingsley, he would have killed himself long ago. Moving into a new house kept him busy and gave him something to occupy his thoughts whenever he was not at the Ministry; it was not an idea he would have on his own.

He was trying not to feel too guilty about monopolizing Hermione’s time in such a way, though. He knew that was too much to ask, but he couldn’t see the opportunity waving on his face and not take it; if the medication could increase his risk of suicide at first, facing the Longbottoms while at it was likely not to end well. He would make it up to her, later, somehow.

“Fair enough. This is something I’ll need to consider carefully.” Dr. Atkins. “Now, we have other things to discuss this session. Could you tell me what it was like to be a double agent in both wars?”

OoOoO

_Dear Mom and Dad,_

_I’m staying over a friend’s house for a few days._

Hermione cringed as she typed that up. She couldn’t quite believe it.

It took a little over three days for Dr. Atkins to make up his mind about it and have a conversation with Hermione. It was about either she was aware of her responsibility over a suicidal person, how comfortable she felt around Severus, how he treated her…  

She also talked at length with Kingsley about what to do if he attempted or got worse.

_This friend of mine is having a particularly severe health issue, and it’s unclear when I’ll be able to come back, somewhere between one and two weeks. I might come back to my apartment to check my e-mails, but it is likely that I won’t. This also means my upcoming visit to you will be delayed for that amount of time._

_I’ll miss you._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Hermione_

It was a Monday morning. She got the day off to pack things and get moving, which she was supposed to do within a couple of hours. She also wrote a note to leave on the center table in case Harry, Ron or Ginny showed up to see her. They had the key, still.

Given their radio silence since the incident, it was not very likely, but Hermione didn’t want to miss an opportunity to rekindle the friendship, should it come around. Reaching out to them so soon after the fact was probably not a good idea…

Hermione was not joking when she said she’d rather worry over Severus than over her own situation. It was looking dire.

His house was… Quite the sight. She knew what to expect, sort of. It would have to be an old house, in a remote location. The tall stone walls surrounding it were unexpected – then again, there was a wizardry village just fifteen minutes away, so maybe people walked by, expecting to peep into his windows. The house itself was, too, made of stone. It seemed to be too big for just one person to live in. 

There were neat rows of small holes on the ground in front garden, covered by a mixture of dead leaves and fresh snow, probably where Severus grew ingredients for his potions.

A trail of recent shoe prints on the snow led from the gate to the front door. Kingsley opened the front door before Hermione could knock and rushed her in.

“I got some fire going to warm up the place and baby proofed the house already.” he said. “Your bedroom is the forth door upstairs. I have his wand and I put a ward on the door to the laboratory, so you won’t have to worry with anything.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Hopefully. Take care, will you? I have to leave to the Ministry, he should be coming through the Floo anytime soon.”

“Have a nice day at the Ministry.”

Kingsley shuddered, before heading to the door.

“I doubt it.” were his parting words.

Hermione took a moment to look around. Everything was practical and unadorned in the living room; the armchairs and duvets near the fireplace seemed to be very comfortable, however.

Up the stairs, she went straight to her bedroom to unpack while she waited. The flower vase on the bedside drawer was the only decoration Hermione saw anywhere, and probably Kingsley’s doing.

As she organized her clothes in the wardrobe, she felt glad for the few moments of solitude to get used to the surroundings. The next several days were bound to be awkward. He took long enough to arrive that Hermione decided to go downstairs into the kitchen, which, to her surprise, had regular muggle kitchen appliances.

Then again Severus was a half-blood. Maybe he, too, found it was rather pointless to not use convenient muggle appliances just because they were muggle. Rita Skeeter’s flashless photography was about the biggest technological advance Hermione saw in the wizardry world since coming to Hogwarts.  

She decided to make herself some tea, and then sat by the kitchen table to read while she waited. Severus arrived not much long later, though Hermione thought it was best to just let him be for a moment. She heard his steps going upstairs.

And, a while later, going downstairs. The door to the dining room softly creaked when it opened. The chair beside Hermione made a rasping sound against the wooden floor when Severus pulled it to sit down.

Only then she averted her eyes from her book.

“How are you feeling?”

“The best I have felt in weeks.” Severus said, sounding optimistic. “That’s not much, but it’s an improvement, regardless. I’m sorry that I put you in this position. I’m sure babysitting me is not the way you’d like to spend your free time.”

“It’s fine. Really. It’s not like you are making it difficult.”

Like he would have if Hermione suggested the very same idea from the get go. She wouldn’t even _want_ to be around him so much, back then.

“For once.” he remarked.

Hermione had to smirk. Good thing he knew.

Another good thing she found out was that his presence didn’t throw her back into a spiral of conflict. The place they were with each other was comfortable enough, and she could be confused over her own feelings in another opportunity.

“And what of Weasley?”

“What about him?”

“Weren’t you best friends? I assume he has no way of contacting you now that you’re here. At least I hope he doesn’t know where I live.”

“He doesn’t even know I’m not home. He… has not tried to be in touch, and I thought I would give him space. I didn’t talk to Harry, either. I’m sure I’ve lost them both.” Hermione said as a pang of grief shot through her loins. “It doesn’t matter. It was bound to happen. It’s fine.”

“I have some experience on the matter, if you ever want to stop pretending you’re not upset about this.”

“You do?” Hermione asked, observing Severus with inquisitive eyes.

He returned the same look, and then exclaimed softly:

“Oh. You don’t know, do you? I keep forgetting you must not know the details.”

“What details?”

“Lily, Potter’s mother, if you will, was my best friend.”


	21. Something There

“At this point, nothing comes across as a surprise for me.” Hermione said, leaning back in her chair. “I hope I’m not speaking too soon.”

Severus took a mental note to not mention anything voluntarily to her. There was plenty she did not know, and each new thing she came across made it all sound worse. Not that it wasn’t bad already. The details just made the whole picture clearer.  

She was too polite to say her actual thoughts, though he could see it in her face. She thought it was heinous. How come did he join a whole movement that wanted to see people like his best friend dead?

How different would his life had been if this train of thought occurred to him several years earlier. He should have known it was not right by principle, but… That didn’t happen.

“I… I thought you knew.”

“Kingsley didn’t tell me much. Regardless of what you might think, he wants to protect your privacy. I suppose he wanted me to be somewhat aware of what situation I was getting into since you spilled a part of the beans. The worst of it, in fact.” Hermione said. “Dr. Atkins did tell me to avoid bringing up your past, and it’s fine by me. I think I’m aware of everything relevant to me and nothing has changed. Discussing the fine print here won’t do us any favors. Let’s… Focus on the present. Which is, I’m not trying to pretend not to be upset about this.”

Her swift redirection of the subject to calmer waters was worthy of praise. Severus silently told her to keep going by giving her a nod.

“It’s just… This was bound to happen, one way or the other. Unfortunately, I was the bad guy because I didn’t have the guts to break things off as soon as I realized it was not going to work at all. We had nothing in common, we couldn’t talk without arguing, I don’t really know what is it that I want out of my life. Plus, I was feeling a little claustrophobic. A relationship is not supposed to feel like a prison.”

Severus wouldn’t know what a relationship felt like. He was very stunted when it came to certain things. Including the part where he didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life — since he apparently had one he would get to keep for a long while.

“Sorry.” Hermione said with an embarrassed laugh. “I just never said any of this out loud because the two people I would originally say this to are the person in question, and his best friend. I couldn’t say anything to anyone. That was another thing. I had no one to vent to if Ron was getting on my nerves, which he did, _very_ often. Ron and I shouldn’t have ended like we did, but… At least I’m sure things are over and will stay that way.”

“I’m glad I could help on that department.” Severus replied, with a heavy dose of irony.

To that day, he didn’t like her omission. Still, he couldn’t be mad at her for it. Not when considering her motivations and the fact she was at prime age for stupid, selfish mistakes. If he was going to have a problem with common twenty-years-old behavior, then maybe he should consider not get himself involved with someone that age.

Which was probably the wisest course of action.

He was not very wise.

“Are you still mad that I didn’t say anything?”

“I would have preferred to be aware, but… I understand your reasons. I’m not going to hold this against you.”

“I didn’t think I could hear these words out of you.” Hermione remarked.

“I’ve gained more maturity in the past couple years than I did in the past three decades. You should enjoy it while you’re here.”

That observation got a laugh out of her. If Severus was bad at putting himself in a good mood, at least he could do it to someone else. The conversation seemed to be over, and Severus decided to take his leave:

“I suppose we still have a few hours until we’re supposed to leave to my therapy, if you need me, I’ll be in the library.”

“I was wondering where all of your books were…” Hermione said. “Can I see it?”

OoOoO

It was huge.

For a library owned by just one person, anyway.

If there was one thing Hermione did not like about her apartment, was that magically expanding rooms was a bit tricky because of the structure of the building. And she didn’t have a room she could dedicate only to books. It was a _very_ tiny apartment.

For the moment, it suited her very well; she missed having her entire collection at her easy disposal, though.

Severus, on the other hand…

“Most of the books are Dark Arts.” he said. “I doubt there’s much here you’re interested in seeing.”

“Well, I _am_ Law Enforcement.” Hermione replied, running her fingers on the books displayed on the shelves as she mindlessly roamed, with Severus on her track.

The shelves were organized in rows like an actual library would, with a working space right by the door. There were books and pieces of parchment scattered on top of the desk: that room was the only place of his house that seemed lived in.

She couldn’t help feeling impressed. Even moreso because he sure had read most of what he got.

“Would you mind if I come in here sometimes?” she asked.

“Not at all.”

“By sometimes I mean most of the time, just to be clear.” Hermione said, turning to him. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Nonsense. I enjoy your presence, as you should know by now.”

Hermione had to swallow dry and avert her gaze, a bit flustered by his words. Hearing him say it so easily was disconcerting. She would never expect him to be that blunt about it; then again, what would she know about the way he acted when he _liked_ someone?

“I’ll be by the desk.” he said, then. “Do try to return the books to their places. Without my wand, I’ll waste way more time trying to keep this room from turning into chaos.”

She was glad for the space to look at everything by herself, although the sounds of parchment and pages shuffling could be overhead above the quietness, reminding her that he was nearby.

At the apartment, she got used to the constant buzzing of traffic, people talking and laughing as they walked on the streets. Severus’ house was silent. Maybe during warmer months of the year, the sounds of the greenery around the place filled the void, but, in the beginning of the winter, there were no bugs nor birds. The owner himself could probably go entire weeks without uttering a single word.

Hermione quite liked the place, though she would have to confess that she got used to having an internet connection. And noise.

When she was done browsing through the volumes and picked one up, she decided to peep on what Severus was so intently reading and taking notes of.

“Why are you reading up on Amortentia?”

“I thought it would be a decent starting place for what I’m intending to do.”

“And what is it that you want to do?” Hermione said, resting her hip against a free spot on the desk as Severus adjusted his chair to face her, resting one of his ankles on the opposite knee, fingers crossed on top of his stomach.

“Amortentia is one of the few potions that are supposed to make whoever takes it feel something. And the only one that is widely brewed, tested and true. No one can brew actual romantic love, of course, however it is possible to brew euphoria, infatuation, obsession. The euphoria part of it all caught my interest now that I have to take pills to control my constantly miserable mood.”

“You want to brew an antidepressant.”

“That is exactly what I want to do. I thought it would be an interesting challenge. Something to occupy my free time with.”

He was supposed to get back to work — somewhere with people he could stay while Hermione herself was out working —, but sure seemed like he did little else whenever he was home.

“I’m glad that you decided to give it a try.”

“It… Makes sense. I’m living the life I’ve dreamed of when I taught in Hogwarts. I’m not supposed to be suicidal.”

“Oh? The life you’ve dreamed of?”

“Of course.” Severus replied, a bit amused. “I don’t have to deal with children at all, anymore. I’m not spending most of my year at Hogwarts. I’m finally working directly with Dark Arts. Should I not be at least a little more motivated to keep living? Sure, the thought I have half of my life ahead of me and I don’t know what to do with it haunts me. It shouldn’t bother me to the point of suicide, however.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

“Really? There’s nothing you want?”

“I didn’t think I’d live through the war. I was ready to risk my neck and die whenever Albus gave me the word. When I woke up at St. Mungos, I had no plans whatsoever, besides resigning my post as Headmaster. My position at the Ministry was Kingsley’s idea. So was moving out of my old house, where, of course, I was miserable. I have no idea where to go from here.”

“I suppose that is something for you to figure out on your own, given time. You’ll be fine.”

“So will you.”

“Will I really?” Hermione asked, only half joking.

Severus stood up and propped a leg up on the desk right beside her and pulled her gently towards him. She laid her head on his shoulder and stayed there for a good moment, in silence. It was comfortable.

It felt, in fact, just right.

Hermione crushed on the wrong Hogwarts’ teacher, it seemed. The thought made her snort out a laugh.

“What was the joke?”

“Nothing. Just something I thought to myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be frank, this scene had been on my mind since the very beginning. Beauty and the Beast vibes, people...


	22. Tequila Shots

Hermione straightened herself and took a deep breath, unsure of what to expect. She didn’t think Ginny would reach out to her, inviting her to have a few drinks on a muggle pub on a Saturday night no less.

The sneaky trip to her apartment during lunch hours to grab condoms had shown itself to be very convenient; she wouldn’t have seen Ginny’s note otherwise.

Not that Hermione broke her own resolution of not doing anything stupid while having to stay with Severus to make sure he wasn’t going to fling himself off a cliff, however, just in case she did break it, there was no need for it to turn into a bigger issue by stopping on the middle of tracks.

Or, heavens forbid, having unprotected sex.

Well, if she kept standing outside of the pub for a minute longer, her fingertips would freeze, so she went inside. Ginny had secured a corner booth on the back and two pints of beer. She waved at Hermione when their gazes met. The patrons were quite annoyed at her for taking up a whole booth when the place was packed, though Ginny was not the type to be easily intimidated.

“Hi.” Hermione said when she sat down, still unsure of Ginny’s intentions.

“You must be wondering what’s going on. First, I chose a muggle place because I doubt Harry and Ron will run into us here. I’m not here to fight you or anything like that. I want to talk to you and see how you’re doing.”

“Last time I checked, we’re supposed to be sworn enemies.”

Ginny laughed at that and took a small sip of her pint.

“Mione, I could never hate you. I know, I told you to give Ron another chance, and that was a huge, fat mistake on my part. I suppose it would be just perfect for everyone if the two of you got together again.”

“It really would… I just couldn’t—”

“I’m his sister. I should have realized it from the get go that there would be no peaceful way to end things if it didn’t work out. I was trying to tell him that you were not interested and just afraid of telling him that for a while before... Well, before the thing happened. You screwed up, Mione. A lot. But I know your reasons and I can’t be mad at you for it. I can’t say I would have done anything differently.” Ginny paused. “I would do one thing different.”

“What?”

“I would have gone with Krum instead of Snape. It would have just as cruel, not half as disgusting. I’m sure Krum would show up in your doorstep in a heartbeat if you wrote him.”

“That’s not really the reason why—”

“I’m perfectly aware.” Ginny took another sip. “Which brings to the real reason why we’re here. So when exactly did you start shagging Snape behind everyone’s backs?”

Hermione bit the inner part on her cheek in guilt, while also attempting to hold back a smile. She finally got around to drinking the beer Ginny ordered for her.

“It’s a rather funny story now that I think of it.”

“Let me have a huge swig of alcohol before I hear it.” Ginny said before doing it and setting down the pint. “Alright. Shoot.”

“It was _supposed_ to be a one-time thing. We were locked up in the same place, there was firewhiskey involved and I just thought it would be a fun story to have on my belt. I also thought he was going to say no way to the idea, but he didn’t, so we hooked up.”

“Wait. During that mission you did together?”

“Yeah.”

Ginny tried not to look too much disgusted.

“And then?”

“Then I ran away when I sobered up completely and realized what I had done, didn’t speak to him for two months, then he tried to kill himself and I had been one of the last few people to talk to him. I felt bad for being a jerk to him, because… He’s actually kind of sweet.”

“I’m almost thinking you’re referring to Snape’s secret good twin. You’re talking of Snape? _Severus_ Snape?”

“I am. And it’s still weird when I think about it too much. I wouldn’t have slept with him if he wasn’t treating me well, though. It’s not like he has the looks to be an asshole and get away with it.”

“And are you two still… Like…”

“It’s complicated.” Hermione said with a sigh.

“Why?”

“Because he’s _Snape_. It’s not like he’s being a jerk or anything. Like I said, he is very sweet. I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that I…” Hermione’s voice trailed off.

“Mione, no way. You’re _in love_ with him?” The silence was enough of an answer. “Merlin’s hairy ballsack, the situation is direr than what I anticipated.”

“What did you anticipate?” Hermione said, trying to avert the subject to something other than the fact she managed to catch feelings for the most unlikely person she could think of.

“I thought you were banging Snape just to spite Ron. I didn’t think you were _actually_ into him. Or I didn’t want to think that, anyway. The two of you looked pretty into each other in that picture. I could see the tongues moving. Quite a gross view to have first thing in the morning.”

Oh. _That_ picture.

“I didn’t think I was actually into him, either, if that helps.”

“Harry is going to be floored when he knows this.” Ginny said. “I don’t know what’s up with him, he’s acting very out of it. Very much in denial that you are, in fact, having a thing with Professor Snape. He said it wasn’t possible. It was the closest Harry got to telling me what he knows of Snape that everyone else doesn’t.”

“Oh, I know what it is.” Hermione said, trying to think of how to elaborate her point without giving too much information to Ginny. “Snape is a different person now, that’s all I can say about that.”

“Did he tell you about his mysterious past or what?”

“Bits and pieces. Enough to know exactly what Harry is bothered about, and it bothered me too, at first, but…”

She wasn’t about to feel jealous over a dead woman. Mainly because until several minutes ago, the full awareness of her feelings had not yet hit her square in the face.

“Damn.” Ginny said. “I feel like I need a couple of shots.”

OoOoO

Despite being pumped full of sleeping potions, Severus could not even feel as much as a trace of sleepiness as long as Hermione was not yet back from her little excursion to meet the Weasley girl.

He was glad to be considered stable enough to be left alone while she was out, though she didn’t inform him of a time to be back, and he felt that it was getting late while flipped page after page on the book he was reading by the living room’s fireplace.

And then she walked right in. Without uttering a word, she took off her coat and came to sit by his armchair’s arm rest.

“I’m kind of drunk.” she said in a whisper, as if she was telling him a huge secret.  

Clearly. He could tell Hermione had been careful to avoid touching him for the most part in the past days. She had to be out of her own mind to go from that to nearly sitting on his lap.

“Is that so?”

She nodded.

“Ginny and I did some shots of this muggle Mexican firewhiskey and it was amazing.”

“It must have gone well for the two of you to finish off the night by taking tequila shots.”

Hermione nodded once again, a lazy smile gracing her face.

“It was _pretty damn good_. Turns out, she’s not mad at me.” she said. “I mean, she’s Ron’s sister. She knows Ron is a little shit. The actual surprise here is that I am a little shit, too.”

Severus was amused to see her that drunk. She had told him the same thing before, but it seemed like the words she was using then were way more honest to her thoughts. Then again, it was best for her to sleep it off.

“Are you feeling well enough to go upstairs on your own?”

“See, _that_ was what I was telling Ginny about. You’re such a darling, except that you were a major asshole for most of your life, so it feels kind of weird telling people that we had sex. It’s not an easy adjustment, if I do say so myself. Ginny will come around, though. I know I did. Maybe even Harry will. I’m not sure what you showed him, but he’s having a hard time, from what I heard.”

Oh.

A new regret Severus came to add to his ever-growing list, were the memories he chose to show Potter. Saying that he would _always_ love Lily was easy, back in the day when he thought his forever was at the most a couple of years long.

That promise could be taken straight out of a teenager’s mouth, but, much like a teenager, he was not thinking far ahead. He didn’t think there was a far ahead at all, especially in those couple of seconds where he thought for certain he was dying and needed someone to know of his true motivations.

Now that he survived…

“Maybe it’s because you were in love with his mom. I don’t know.” Hermione went on. “Were you ever in love again? Because you spent half of your life being a spy because of her, right? Or was she the only one?”

“I did fall in love again.”

One good thing about being a double agent for years was being skilled at the art of coming up with convenient half-truths. Hermione was going to remember that conversation in the morning. Not with a clear picture, maybe. She would remember some of it, at least.

Maybe this time around Severus could try to be more honest, because for certain not being outright rejected helped feeding into his decades-long obsession. It was just not the right time, though. He wanted to tell Hermione in a situation where she could feel comfortable rejecting him, without feeling like he’d kill himself over it.

And, also, he would like to talk to a sober Hermione.

“You should have a glass of water and go to bed.” he said, then.

“And why are you still up anyway? I thought you were supposed to have a bedtime. Must be way past it by now.”

“I was waiting to see if you would arrive safely, that’s all.” Hermione was to about scowl when Severus added: “Despite knowing there is no danger you can’t outmaneuver with your hands tied.”

“Thank you for the due acknowledgment.” she replied after laughing. “You know, if you are ever into someone new, she will be a very lucky woman. And I’m not just saying that because I’m a little in love with you or anything. It’s the truth.”

It did not seem like she caught the meaning of the words spilling out of her mouth as she drunkenly rambled.

“Well, I am touched, but you need sleep.”

“Alright, _dad_. I’m going. Good night.”

Then she left, with somewhat unsure footsteps, to the kitchen, and then upstairs.

Took Severus a couple of hours to even move out of the armchair.


	23. The End

Hermione wasn’t sure for just how long she procrastinated getting out of bed. The first half of that time, she was wondering if she’d claim her words from the night before were untrue. Her eventual decision was to be honest. They were true. In fact, her drunk self was smart enough to play it down and say: “a little”.

The other half of the time was spent picking up the courage to tell Severus she meant it, and wondering what his reaction would be. Rejection, probably, given the way he reacted before. I am touched, but, please, go to sleep, you inconvenient drunk.

She thought the stupid mistake she’d commit was sleeping with him again. Comparing to a drunken confession, it was a _much_ smaller slip.

Eventually, though, her hunger got so strong that her head started to hurt. She tiptoed out of her room and tried to listen to the sounds of the ground floor. It was dead quiet. Severus must have been at his library, so the kitchen was safe.

Hermione was silent as a cat while she climbed down the stairs and sneaked into the kitchen. There were no clocks around. Given the sunlight, it wasn’t too late in the afternoon — if it was afternoon at all.

She was not the only one who could be silent, however.

“Are you feeling better?” said Severus from the door.

She didn’t see him coming and leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. Like usual, she had not a damn clue of what was going through his mind. The small ounce of courage she managed to gather slipped out of her within a split of second upon seeing him.

The theory always went much smoother than the practice.

“Much better, thank you.”

“Do you remember anything you said last night? I take it that you do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have tried to sneak into the kitchen.”

Hermione let out a huge sigh.

“Am I that easy to read?”

“I think I’m well acquainted with your personality by now.” he said, forcibly casual. “You know, trying to run away from me while we are staying in the same house won’t be an easy task. I understand that you were drunk and didn’t take any of it seriously, so there is no need to avoid my presence.”

“I wasn’t trying to run away, Severus. I… I was drunk, but… But it was true. What I said. Everything.” she said, stuttering. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to be like this. I wasn’t even planning on telling you anything because I had no idea what I was supposed to do after realizing what was happening. I’m really, really sorry for making things awkward. This isn’t the right time, and that wasn’t the right way. I’m so sorry.”

“That does make things _awkward_.” Severus replied. Something changed in his neutral expression. It was soft, amused. “Especially because I feel the same way.”

“Oh.” Hermione exclaimed.

For a moment, it was like the time stopped. Until Severus said:

“I’ll be in the library if you need me. I assume you would like to hole up again for the rest of the day.”

Hermione let him leave. It was certainly not the romantic mutual confession she was hoping for, however she needed the time to process everything that happened. And what would happen now that it was out in the open they were both into each other.

OoOoO

Severus didn’t expect to see Hermione again at all that day. Sure, he supposed the expected thing to happen after two people becoming aware they were in love with each other — and how odd that he was one of those two people — was a passionate kiss or something of the sorts, but things never went the way they were supposed to when it came to him and Hermione.

He understood why she would need time to think things over. Like she said herself, it seemed like they were supposed to do something about it. What, exactly? Severus had no idea. He never thought he would be in such a situation. There was no plan he wanted to follow.

To his surprise, she showed up at the library an hour later, fresh from a shower. She rested her hip against the desk.

“I had no idea.” she said.

“I was trying not to make it obvious. Seems I was successful.”

“You were. I’m sorry that I needed some time to think about it. I… I have no idea what is supposed to happen now. Are we supposed to go on _dates_?”

He could tell she was stressing out over it, given her anxious expression. It bothered him too, and although he was a meticulous planner, he learned how to be used to now knowing what lied ahead overtime. Hermione, however, didn’t have such time to get used to the feeling. Falling in love with _him_ was a big error on the grand scheme of her life, for certain.

It was one of those times when he was aware of how much younger she was.

Severus was not sure if touching her would ease her anxiety or not, so he settled for standing before her within a safe distance.

“I do not like leaving the house, and I can cook really well.” he said. “I don’t think we have to do that, if you don’t want to. If there is anything especial you’d like, I would most certainly be able to make it for you.”

Hermione held back a smile by biting her lower lip.

“I guess I’m nervous because… Well… I can’t see us being in a relationship. It’s a strange concept to me.”

Severus took no offense, not with the disarmed, affectionate way she was looking at him.

“No need to stress over what we are _supposed_ to do, Hermione. I’m not asking or expecting anything of you. I understand that you can’t make any promises at your age. I can’t make any promises, either.”

Her breath eased into a more relaxed rhythm.

“Yes, I… With Ron, what happened was he had this idea of what he wanted to do, and I felt trapped. I don’t want to be in the same situation again.”

“We’re both at equal loss, here. I didn’t foresee myself getting involved with anyone. I have no idea what do with it.”

“Neither do I.”

“We can figure it out together, then. If you want.”

“Sounds great to me.”

Hermione stepped closer and put her arms around Severus’ neck, kissing him softly on the lips at first, then deepening it and bringing him with her as she stepped backwards to sit on the desk.

Severus settled between her legs, but broke the kiss.

“I don’t have any—”

Hermione pulled a condom out of her pocket with a wicked grin.

“It was a matter of time, really.” she said before pulling him closer.

OoOoO

“Well, I preferred the story when I was ten years old.” said Eileen, pushing away her plate. “That’s gross. And now I’m one hundred percent sure this is the desk on dad’s office.”

Severus half-smirk gave it away.

“It’s been cleaned many times since then, so you do not need to worry.” he said.

Hermione sipped on her wine, hiding her own deeply amused expression. They always heavily edited the story of how they came around being together to Eileen. It was not a story appropriate for a child.

But Eileen was twenty years old, then. The same age Hermione was when she met Severus all over again; she understood why her parents freaked out when they met Severus. She couldn’t help seeing Eileen as very young, almost a child, despite being a fully-grown adult already. It didn’t help that she looked just like a taller, lankier Hermione.

Well, with Severus’ nose. It was the family curse.

She still lived with them as she decided to pursue higher-education in Charms, however that wouldn’t last forever. 

Severus seemed to be thinking the same as Hermione:

“I must say, that if you bring home anyone double your age, I will be extremely concerned for your safety.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.” she replied, pulling back the plate back and resuming her dinner. “I must ask. The story of how I was conceived was also not true, right?”

“We never lied to you.” Hermione said. “We just never… Went into detail. It’s not like I was going to tell an impressionable teenager that I got shit-faced and slept with a former teacher much older than myself. I didn’t want to give you any ideas.”

Eileen was a quiet child, and grew up to be a quiet person. Spent too much time around Severus. His personality rubbed off on her. It was quite the surprise when it turned out that she was sorted into Ravenclaw and not Slytherin as both Severus and Hermione were foreseeing.

Hermione couldn’t imagine her doing anything adventurous when it came to sex. It was not even clear either she ever went on a date or not. Some things, she was very private about. Which was fine; she knew how to keep herself safe, and it was all that mattered.

“You said I was a surprise.” She insisted. “Let me guess… A condom broke?”

Hermione nodded.

“And we were drunk.”

“I’m not at all surprised.”

“The irony of it all is that we were in France.” Severus chimed in. “We decided to properly visit France, and it was a beautiful summer night, so of course we drank a little too much. I was in no condition to properly pay attention to anything.”

“You want to know what else? We started living together _because_ I got pregnant. I was twenty five, back then. I panicked, because of my career and because I never planned on children. Your dad said he could be at home and take care of you, so I didn’t have to worry about it.”

Hermione could remember the feeling like it all had happened yesterday. They were so happy with the way things were; they both had space, Hermione could focus on her career, Severus could live isolated like he wanted. She didn’t want to live anywhere without any means to contact her parents easily, and he didn’t want to give up on the house.

Then Eileen happened.

They decided for a house in a muggle neighborhood. It was just like Severus wanted it to be — since he would be the one always in it, taking care of Eileen. Besides the location, of course. And the presence of wireless internet..

 “That explains it. Even now it’s still a bit weird when I tell people of my childhood. Everyone always ends up asking.”

“I wouldn’t have made it to Prime Minister, you know, if I had to drop everything until you were old enough for Hogwarts. It was really important to me. And I never doubted your dad would do everything in his power to raise you well, despite his _terrible_ history with children.”

“Oh, I’ve heard it all, while I was at Hogwarts.”

 “I am still not fond of children.” Severus said. “Except when they are mine.”

Hermione reached out for his hand. He had a head full of white hair and needed to wear prescription glasses, but underneath all the changes, he was still very much himself, despite the round edges.

“Dad, you never fail to be a charmer. Maybe that’s why mom only half-married you.”

“I cannot blame her.”

It had been an uproar when the newspaper found out Hermione was pregnant. They were not married, not even considering it. Neither of them cared for marriage, though. Eventually they were forced to marry in muggle court because of Eileen’s custody and their assets, but that was all.

Eileen knew that because she had read the Daily Prophet the day after she left for Hogwarts and asked in a letter what a child out of wedlock was.

By then, Eileen had finished her dinner.

“This was an enlightening conversation, and not only I am scarred for life, I have also learned valuable lessons of what not to do with former teachers. Thanks, mom and dad.”

She stood up and left after kissing both of her parents in the face. Hermione watched her go with a proud smile.

“I almost can’t believe we raised her and somehow she turned out okay.”

“I’m surprised, too. I’m sure you must have noticed, I have never touched a baby until she was born.” Severus confessed, though it was obvious babies were completely alien to him. Until he had one of his own.

“If you dropped her in the head and didn’t tell me, I’m sure nothing too bad happened because of it.”

They fell into comfortable silence for a moment.

“I love you.” Severus said. “I don’t tell you enough how much I do. These past twenty-five years were the happiest ones of my life.”

“It’s been that long?”

“Yes.”

She tried not to think much about the fact she’d be around for much longer than he would. Wizards lived longer, but his reliance on sleeping potions for decades and decades worn his body out. He was not going to drop dead anytime soon, though Hermione better not count on him to live for much longer than a muggle man would.

And he was sixty-five. The thought of living without him was heartbreaking.

“I love you, too. Always.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is all, folks! Thanks for riding this *very* bumpy ride with me! I appreciated all the comments, kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions! Gives me that push to keep writing!


	24. So this has turned original

Hi, peeps!

I wanted to let you know I have turned this fic into a work of original fiction (loosely based on the plot and characters) and the [prologue is available now on Wattpad](https://www.wattpad.com/586937805-the-b-word-prologue)!


	25. The B Word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANYWAY I HAVE A SEVERE CASE OF WRITER'S BLOCK FOR THE OTHER FIC SO HERE'S A BONUS CHAPTER FOR THIS ONE

Well, those were bound to be the strangest Christmas’ holidays ever for Hermione, she realized as she plopped down on her couch, fresh from a shower, still in her bath robe, and a slim arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her closer.

It was, officially, the first night of her two weeks off work.

“I’m so tired.” she exhaled to her unlikely confidant.

“Not _too_ tired, I hope.”

Hermione bit back a smirk.

“Not terribly so, I don’t think.”

For one, she would have to find a gift for Severus. Since apparently they were in those terms. Apparently they have been dating for a month or so.

It was a problem for later. At that moment, the most urgent issue was the pent-up libido from a work week. She slid to Severus’ lap and parted her lips when he kissed her neck and undid the robes.

Then the landline started ringing.

Hermione sighed in defeat.

“It had to be now.” she said.

Severus reached out to the phone on a small table besides the couch, and Hermione at first thought he was going to pick it up, which he did, only to press the button that would end the call.

“At this hour of the evening, it can only be serious.” Hermione said before stealing the receiver from him and bringing it to her ear. Severus carried a guiltless smirk on his face. “Hello?”

“Hermione, darling?”

“Oh. I didn’t know you’d be calling.”

Calls from Australia were expensive. E-mails were the preferred method of communication for the most part. Besides, it wasn’t like her parents remembered her enough to waste money just to hear her voice…

At least she was treated like a close family friend. Better than nothing. It had been a long while since she heard her mother’s voice.

“We wanted to make you a surprise. Our plane touched down a couple hours ago, but you’d still be at work then. We decided to spend the holidays in London this year. Maybe you could come and have dinner with us at our hotel?”

“That’s great!” Hermione adjusted herself better on her spot as Severus slip a hand inside her robes to fondle one of her breasts. She slapped his hand away and mouthed “my parents are on the phone!” to him, a bit too loudly perhaps, because then her mother asked:

“Are you with someone?”

“Yes. I mean, no! I mean… I’m with this… Person I’ve been seeing.”

“You haven’t told me of him yet. He can come, too. We’d love to meet him.”

“Can you give me a minute?”

“Of course.”

Hermione rested the receiver on her shoulder and turned to Severus.

“My parents want to meet you.”

“Do _you_ want me to meet them?” he asked.

He’d go home without a problem if she said no, of course: the antidepressants were working just fine, he was going to therapy and Dr. Atkins had cleared him to live his life as usual. He was also making double sure Hermione never felt pressured to do anything because of his mental health.

All in all, despite it all being so recent, she supposed introducing him to her parents was something bound to happen, sooner or later. If they were staying in London, then she would want to spend as much time with them as possible, though she would also like to spend time with Severus.

Who would have thought.

Hermione put the phone back on her ear.

“He’ll come.” she said. “A fair warning, though. He’s a bit older than me. He also has some scars on his neck, don’t ask about those. And also… He’s white as a sheet of paper.”

Severus rose an eyebrow.

“That’s interesting. Will you take long?” asked Hermione’s mother over the phone.

“Not at all. I’ll just get dressed and we’ll be right there. What’s the name of your hotel?”

oOoOO

Severus had to admit he was feeling a little nervous. He never thought he’d be in such a situation, for one. Secondly, he seemed like a terrible fit for Hermione for several reasons. His age, his past, the fact he was _white as a sheet of paper_.

Hermione showed up on the living room now clad in a beautiful dress, heels in one hand, purse on the other.

“You know, now there is at least one positive thing about my parents’ memories being wiped out.” she said as she sat down to put on her shoes.

“What is it?” Severus questioned.

“They won’t remember who you are.”

“Did they know who I am?”

“Of course. What do you think? I wrote home saying terrible things about you all the time. When you became Headmaster, it was news on the Daily Prophet. My parents asked if you were the same teacher I mentioned in my letters and I said yes.”

“Perhaps it’s not a good idea to introduce me to them after all.”

 “Don’t be silly. My parents aren’t going to _forbid_ me from seeing you. They didn’t like Ron all that much and never said anything. Besides, if they are staying over for the whole holidays, I would love to spend as much time with them as possible. It would be nice if you could come too for at least some of it. Like I said, they won’t remember.”

Severus knew how important it was to Hermione to be with her parents. If they couldn’t remember the old memories, then she could at least make new ones. Not to mention, it was quite reassuring she would like him to join. She didn’t have the best history of being consistent with her feelings.

“Of course.”

She smiled at him and then turned her attention to applying lipstick.

All he could think about was how it was going to hurt when they parted ways. He thought he had suffered over love before. It had not hurt a tenth of how much it was going to hurt whenever Hermione got sick of dating a charity case.

Again, his thoughts were spiraling down a less than adequate route considering she had just insisted to introduce him to her parents. He couldn’t stop himself, though. At the very least the antidepressants blunted his sense of despair whenever he was caught up in thinking everything would go wrong.

Also, for some reason, Hermione had put her index finger on her mouth and was slowly dragging it out. That worked pretty effectively in getting his mind off its negative train of thought. The pills had not gotten to his sex drive.

Yet.

“Don’t get any ideas.” she retorted when she caught him staring, as she cleaned her finger on a tissue. “It’s just so the lipstick doesn’t get to my teeth.”

“Fascinating. May I get ideas later?”

Hermione turned an evil eye to him for a moment, but then laughed.

“ _Later_.”

Sweet.

“Let’s go. We’re running kind of late and I’m _starving_.”

He was feeling positively nervous by the time Hermione had him in tow towards the table her parents were sitting. It had been at least several years since the last time he wanted to make a positive impression on someone.

At least her parents tried their best to keep a straight face once they landed their eyes on him.

“Mom, dad. Hello. So nice to see you again!” Hermione exclaimed, hugging them tight.

She looked like a shorter, feminine version of her father, from the dark tone of her skin, to her short, stocky frame. Hermione had informed Severus her mother was _mixed_ , thus the hooded eyes and straight hair.

“This is Severus.” she said, and then cleared her throat.

“Oh, so this is your boyfriend.” said her mother, eyeing from head to toe. He felt studied like a specimen in a zoo.

Hermione cleared her throat once more.

“I guess?”

Severus couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes a bit, which thankfully put her parents at ease. Her father extended his hand for Severus to shake.

“Interesting name. Severus what?”

“Severus Snape.”

To give himself something to do while that settled in, he pulled a chair for Hermione to sit. If she was uneasy, nothing showed through.

“How did you two meet?” asked her mother once they were all sat.

“Ministry. He works in research and we had to work on something together for a bit.” Hermione replied.

Severus would just nod along to whatever story she spun on the spot.

“How old is he again?”

“Mom, he’s right here.” Hermione retorted, and then took a small sip of water. “And he’s forty.”

Perhaps Severus should have considered dyeing his hair. His pale skin did not age well. At the very least he could not have had all the greys making him seem older than he was. Which was, of course, too old to date a twenty-years-old.

“I think I heard that name before.” said her father.

Hermione lowered her glass of water very slowly.

“You… You have?”

“It sounds familiar.” Hermione’s mother agreed. “Did we hear that name before? He’s a wizard, right?”

Severus swallowed dry. Hermione held his hand softly and shot him an inquisitive glance. It had been around eight months since the last time they remembered something new. It would matter the world to her if they remembered more.

It was going to be a terribly long dinner, but he had to say:

“I used to teach at Hogwarts. Does _Professor Snape_ ring a bell?”

It did hit home. Hermione’s father almost spit the wine he was drinking.

Hermione herself drew in a deep breath, between mortified and ecstatic.

“Oh, it’s a long bloody story. Can I have some wine, please?”


End file.
